The Walking Dead: Scars
by BewareTheWalkers
Summary: Clary Dixon, younger sister of Daryl and Merle Dixion, was always an outsider. But can a group of assorted, clashing human beings, the supposed death of her oldest brother, and a budding romance with a certain blue-eyed boy change that? AN: I don't own any characters except for Clary. This is a season 3, and I'll make a season 2 after this. Rated T for cussing and gore.
1. Prologue

I kneel next to Andrea, who leans over her sister's dead body. Andrea doesn't acknowledge me when I kneel, she jut keeps her green eyes focused on Amy. I put my hand on her shoulder, and wipe my eyes. "I know that most of the time, it's not true when they say 'I know how you feel,' but I really do know how you feel. I know how it feels to loose a sibling. Amy was a great person, she really was. We all loved her. I'm sorry for your loss, but you're going to have to let us take her. I promise that we'll be as gentle as possible, okay?"

She doesn't say anything, so I get up and walk back over to Shane, Lori, Dale, Carol and Rick. "She still won't move?" Rick asks.

"She won't even talk to us. She's been there all night," I say. "What do we do?"

"We can't just leave Amy like that. We have to deal with it, same as the others," Shane says.

Rick nods. "I'll tell her how it is."

He walks towards Andrea, and starts to kneel next to her. She whips around, aiming her handgun at Rick. "I know how the safety works."

"All right, okay. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Rick says, and walks backwards, saying the same thing over and over. She slowly drops her handgun, then returns her attention to her dead sister. He walks back over and Daryl comes over, holding the pickaxe he's using to prevent the others from reanimating. "Y'all can't be serious. You're just gonna let that girl hamstring us?"

"He's right," I say. "Amy's a time bomb. She could wake up at any second."

Rick looks from Daryl to I, and back to Daryl. "What do you suggest?"

"Take the shot," Daryl says. "Clean, in the brain from here. I could hit a turkey between the eyes from this distance."

"No," Lori objects. "For God's sakes, let her be."

Daryl walks away, and I swing my crossbow back over my shoulder. I slide my gloves back on to help with the bodies. My brother walks past Jim, who's staring at the ground. "Wake up, Jimbo, we got work to do."

Jim nods and Daryl goes to help Morales with the body of a man. They drag him towards the pile where walkers are burning, and Glenn watches them burn. He looks over to see the men dragging the body. "Hey, what are you guys doing? This is for geeks. Our people go over there," Glenn says, pointing, and they stop to look up at the young Korean.

"What's the difference? They're all infected," Daryl says.

"Our people go on that row over there. We don't—" Glenn's voice cracks, "we don't burn them! We..." Glenn sighs, and his voice returns to normal. "We bury them."

Daryl and Morales don't move. "Daryl," I call. "Our people go in the other row."

Daryl sighs, and helps Morales move the body. "You reap what you sow."

"You know what?" Morales says. "Shut up, man."

"Y'all left my brother for dead," Daryl cries, furious with the group. "You had this coming."

He walks off to go pick up his pickaxe, and I help Glenn move some of the walker bodies. "Thanks," he says.

I look up at him. "What?"

"Thanks. For siding with me and not Daryl."

"I side with who's right, not my brother. We don't burn our people, we bury them, right?"

We throw a walker onto the fire. "Right," Glenn says. "We bury them."

Before I can reply, Jacqui calls out, "A walker bit Jim!"

We turn, all of us staring at Jim. "I'm okay," Jim claims.

"Show it to us," Daryl orders.

Jim takes a step back, and turns to pick up a shovel. "Grab him," Daryl says.

Jim waves the shovel at the others, who start yelling. I grab him from behind, knocking the shovel out of his hands. Daryl comes over and pulls up his t-shirt, revealing a walker bite. Daryl walks away as I let go of Jim, and take the shovel. I walk over with Daryl, the shovel over my shoulder, and Jim keeps insisting that he's okay. Daryl, T-Dog, Carol, Shane, Lori, Carol, Rick, Morales, Jacqui, Dale and I stand in a circle off to the side after convincing Jim to sit down. "I say we put a pickaxe in his head and the dead girl's and be done with it," Daryl says.

Shane looks up at him. "Is that what you'd want if it were you?"

"Yeah, and I'd thank you while you did it."

"I hate to say it—I never thought I would," Dale says, "but maybe Daryl's right."

"Jim's not a monster, Dale, or some rabid dog," Rick says. "He's sick, a sick man. We start down that road, and where do we draw the line?"

"The line's pretty clear," I say. "Zero tolerance for walkers."

"Or them to be," Daryl adds.

"What if we can get him help?" Rick asks. "I heard the CDC was working on a cure."

"Heard that, too. Actually, I heard a lot of things before the world went to hell," Daryl says, then gesture to me. "We heard Atlanta was safe. It wasn't—_isn't_."

"But what if the CDC is up and running?"

"Man, that is a stretch right there," Shane says.

"Why?" Rick inquires. "If there's any government left, anything at all, they'd protect the CDC at all costs, wouldn't they? I think it's our best shot. Shelter, protection, rescue—"

"Okay, Rick, you want those things, and I do too. If they exist, they're at the army base. That's Fort Benning, a hundred miles in the opposite direction. But it's away from the hot zone. If that place is working, then it'll be heavily armed, and we'll be safe there."

"The military were on the front lines of this thing. They got overrun. We've all seen it. The CDC is our best choice, and Jim's only chance."

We're quiet for a moment, and Daryl and I look at each other, and we have a silent understanding of what needs to be done. "You go looking for aspirin, do what you need to do," I say.

I turn and walk toward Jim, my crossbow up, and Daryl follows me.

Daryl hold his pickaxe, ready to swing. "Somebody needs to have the courage to take care of this damn problem!" I say.

Rick and Shane follow us, and Rick puts his gun to my brother's head, knowing that it wouldn't be smart to put the gun to my head. "Hey! We don't kill the living."

Shane walks around us, his back to Jim, and I lower my crossbow, which is inches from Jim's head. Daryl lowers his pickaxe. "That's funny coming from a man who just put a gun to my head."

I turn and walk off, following Glenn to help him move bodies. We finish, and I walk back up to Dale's RV. I can hear Jacqui talking to Jim inside. I climb up onto the roof and take watch, and Andrea is still kneeling next to Amy. I can hear her talking, saying that she loves her sister. Then, a gunshot rings out, and I turn. Andrea lays Amy back on the ground, a bullet hole in Amy's head. She must have finally Turned. After a while, everyone goes up the nearby hill for all the funerals, and they come back a few minutes later. Dale, Rick and Shane go to check the woods for walkers, and come back a little while later. Shane stands in front of the group. "I've been thinking about Rick's plan. Now look, there are no guarantees either way I'll be the first one to admit that. I've known this man a long time, and I trust his instincts. The most important thing here is we need to stay together. So, those of you that agree, we leave first thing in the morning."

I climb down from the RV roof and walk over to Daryl. "We going with them?"

"Yeah," he answers. "We're going with them."

The next morning, we get ready to leave. Rick and Shane take turns telling us what to do, and Morales and his family announce that they won't be joining us. We take off, Daryl and I in his truck with Merle's motorcycle in the back. After a while, the caravan has to stop because of Dale's RV. Rick goes inside the RV to check on Jim, and comes out a few minutes later. We gather around him as he tells us that all Jim wants is to die. "That's what he said he wants," Rick says.

"And he's lucid?" Carol asks, and Rick nods.

"Back in the camp, when I said Daryl might be right, you shut me down," Dale says, "you misunderstood. I would never go along with callously killing a man. I was going to suggest asking Jim what he wants. I think we have an answer."

After a little more discussion, Rick and Shane carry Jim to the base of a tree. Jim looks up. "Look, another damn tree."

Jim chuckles at his own joke, and Shane tries to talk him out of staying behind, without prevail. One by one, everyone says their goodbyes. Daryl and I stand at the back until everyone has gone back to their vehicles. I give Jim a peace sign. "No hard feelings, right?"

Jim returns the peace sign with one of his own. "No hard feelings."

Daryl and I turn and climb back in his truck. We follow the rest of the caravan to the CDC, and make our way towards the building. We step around bodies, and Rick pounds on the closed doors. "There's nobody here," T-Dog says.

"Then why are these shutters down?" Rick asks.

"Walkers!" Daryl calls. I turn and see more walkers coming. Daryl fires at one and I fire at another, and Rick pounds on the doors. Everyone starts yelling at each other, and Shane says we need to leave. We start to walk away, still yelling, but one sentence from Rick rings out above the rest: "The camera, it moved!"

I turn back to him. "What?"

Shane tries to convince Rick that it didn't move, and the darkness outside grows. Shane pulls Rick away, and Rick keeps yelling at the camera. "You're killing us!"

He finally turns away, and we start to walk, when the doors open and a bright light streams out.


	2. Seed

Rick opens the door and immediately shoots a walker. T-Dog stabs another. Carl, Daryl and I follow. We go through the house, making sure there aren't any walkers. Rick and Carl take the first floor, while T-Dog, Daryl and I take the second. I go first, my crossbow up, T-Dog follows me up the stairs, and my brother goes last. Daryl shoots an owl for dinner, but other than that we don't find anything.

We walk back downstairs and see Rick letting the others in. Glenn, Maggie, Lori, Carol, Beth, and Hershel walk in. Since the camp was overrun and over winter, we've both lost and gained. We lost Amy, Dale, Shane, Sophia, Jacqui, and so many others. When Carl was shot before winter, and while looking for a missing Sophia, Rick took him to Hershel's farm, where we met Hershel, Maggie, and Beth.

T-Dog looks out the window. "Walkers are coming."

We hurry out of the house, Daryl carrying the dead owl. He shoves it in a saddlebag on him motorcycle and climbs on. I climb on behind him, while the others climb into the other cars. We drive for a while, Daryl and I in the front, until we stop in the middle of the road. Carl, Beth and I take watch while the others discuss where to go next.

Rick agrees to letting us stop and rest for a little bit. I walk over to where Daryl and Rick are. "Y'all wanna do a little hunting while were stopping?" Daryl asks.

Rick and I nod. We follow him into the woods, but we don't see anything worth shooting. Daryl leads us on the train tracks. We stop and look at a prison courtyard filled with walkers. I look at Rick and can tell he's getting an idea. "This is the perfect spot for Lori to give birth," he says, for Lori's baby is due any day now.

We hurry back to the others and tell them. We drive there as fast as we can. We hold off walkers until Rick gets the fence cut open. We hurry through the walkway between the two fences, and stop a the main gates. A bus is turned over in front of the gate, but someone can still squeeze through. "It's perfect," Rick says, "If we can shut that gate, prevent more from filling the yard, we can pick off walkers. We'll take the field by tonight."

"So how do we shut the gate?" Hershel asks.

"I'll do it," Glenn says. "You guys cover me."

"No. It's a suicide run," Maggie, Glenn's girlfriend, says.

"I'm the fastest."

"No, you, Maggie and Beth draw as many as you can over there," Rick says, pointing, "Pop 'em through the fence. Daryl, go back to the other tower. Take you sister with you. Carol, you've become a pretty good shot. Take your time, we don't have a lot of ammo to waste. Hershel, you and Carl take this tower." Rick points to the closest tower. "I'll run for the gate."

We take off, going to where we need to. Lori opens the gate for Rick, and he slips into the courtyard. I can see Rick making his way towards the gate as we start picking off walkers. One is almost on Rick when Daryl shoots it. Hershel, Carl, Rick, Lori and Carol use guns, while Daryl and I use our crossbows.

Carol shoots her rifle, but it misses it's target. The bullet hits the ground, narrowly missing our leader. Rick glances up at her. "Sorry," Carol calls, and reloads.

Rick makes it to the gate, and closes it. He runs into the third guard tower. "He made it," Carol says.

"Light it up!" Daryl yells. Soon, we've killed all the walkers in the courtyard. We climb down from the tower, and meet up with the others. We walk into the courtyard.

"Oh! We haven't had this much space since we left the farm!" Carol cries.

T-Dog laughs and lets out a happy whoop. I run and catch up with Carl. I take his hat, which used to be Rick's, and put it on my head. I run away, causing him to chase me. We laugh, and I somehow stay in front of him. I glance over my shoulder, and I don't see him behind me. I look back ahead, and he's standing right in front of me. I skid to a stop, but I still run into him.

We land on our backs next to each other, with the dark brown sheriff's hat above us. We sit up and reach for it, but Carl grabs it first. Instead of taking it, he puts it back on my head. "It looks better on you," he claims.

I take it off and put it on his head. "No, it looks better on you."

He tries to give it back to me, but I playfully slap his hand. "Don't argue with me. Who's the girl here?" I say, starting one of the pointless arguments we have all the time.

"You, but you're Daryl Dixon's little sister!"

"What's that supposed to mean, Carl Grimes?"

"It means that both of you are supposed to shut the hell up," Daryl jokingly says with a grin. I stick my leg out as he walks past, and he trips.

My brother stands up. "Oh, is that how you wanna play?"

I stand up and pull my hair into a quick ponytail. "Oh, that's how I wanna play, big brother."

"Well, then, bring it, baby sister," Daryl says, still grinning.

I duck a punch, and try to swipe his legs out from under him. We keep going like that, sometimes reversed, for another few minutes. Beth stands next to Carl, watching us. "Is this normal? And is it always this bad?" Beth asks, for we've landed a few blows on each other already.

"Oh, yeah. Totally normal. You should've seen 'em back at camp, it was worse. Oh man, you don't even wanna see how a fight turns out between Daryl and whoever messes with Clary," Carl answers.

Daryl kicks my legs out from under me, and I hit the ground. I look up at him, grinning. "All right, Daryl. I give up, you win this round."

Daryl holds his hand out for me to take and pull myself up. I take his hand, but I pull him to the ground, using the momentum to stand up. I put on foot on his ribs. "Like I said, big brother. You won round one."

"All right, I'll give you this one, baby sister. Clever trick you pulled. But not as clever as this—"

Daryl grabs my ankle and throws me to the ground. I land on my left shoulder, hard enough to dislocate it. In fact, I'm pretty sure it is dislocated. "Daryl, you win. You win," I say quickly.

A few years ago, Daryl and I decided that saying "you win" meant that either we needed the other's help with someone, or that we couldn't fight anymore. My brother kneels down next to me. "What is it?" he whispers.

"Shoulder," I say, holding the one I landed on. "I think it's dislocated."

Daryl cursed under his breath. Carol, hearing that I dislocated my shoulder, kneels next to me. "I know how to fix that."

"You do?" I ask looking up at her. She nods, and Carl starts to walk over.

"Clary? You okay?" Carl calls.

"Shut up, I'm fine! Just go away, Carl!" I snap, and instantly feel bad about it. If there's anyone in this messed up world that I love more than my brother, it's my friends.

Carl looks down and away, and walks away. I feel even worse. Carol goes around my other side and takes my left hand. "Okay, tell me when."

I grit my teeth and nod. She pulls as hard as she can, and I hear a pop. My shoulder still hurts, but I can move it now; it's back in place. "Thanks, Carol," I say.

"No problem," she says, and stands up. Daryl pulls me to my feet. Before I can grab my crossbow, my brother takes it, along with my backpack that I dropped. I glare at him. "I can carry it," he says.

"If you're really gonna do that, then at least let me have my crossbow," I say. He hands me the weapon. Someone builds a fire pit in the grass. When it's dark out, Daryl and I keep watch on top of the over-turned prison bus. Carol slides a bowl of owl meat on and starts to crawl up. Daryl reaches down to help her.

I nudge Daryl's arm. "I'm gonna go. I'm freezing."

He nods. I slide down the side that would be the top of the bus and walk over to the campfire. I sit down next to Carl. Before I can apologize for what I said earlier, he cuts me off. "Don't say you're sorry. I get it, you were in pain from your shoulder."

I look down, not saying anything. Hershel breaks the silence. "Bethy, sing 'The Parting Glass' for us."

"Nobody wants to hear," Beth says.

"Why not?" Glenn asks.

"Okay," she says, and glances down. She starts to sing. "Of all the money that e'er I've had, I spent it in good company. And all the harm that e'er I've done, alas, it was to none but me."

I recognize the song, and jump in at the second verse. "And all I've done for want of wit, to memory now I can't recall. So fill to me the parting glass. Good night and joy be with you all."

Carl looks at me in surprise, since I never sing. Maggie starts to sing at the third verse, and Daryl and Carol come over. "Oh all the comrades that e'er I've had, are sorry for my going away. And all the sweethearts that e'er I've had, would wish me one more day to stay."

"But since it falls unto my lot, that I should rise and you should not. I'll gently rise and I'll softly call; Good night and joy be with you all. Good night and joy be with you all."

"Beautiful," Hershel says, and looks at me. "Clary, how do you know 'The Parting Glass?'"

"My social studies teacher from seventh grade. She was from Ireland, and she sang it for us when we learned about it. I've always remembered it," I say.

Rick comes over and kneels between Carl and Lori. "We better turn in. We have a big day tomorrow. Look, I know we're all exhausted, but I wanna push our good luck just a little farther. By the looks of all the walkers, this place fell early. That means that the supplies might be intact. Food, medicine, shelter. Weapons. This place could be a gold mine if we rid it of walkers, we can stay here. We'll try tomorrow. For now, get some rest."

Daryl lays down behind me on his back. I lay back and use his stomach as a pillow. I study my brother; we both have scratches and bruises from our fight. I look up at the stars for a few minutes, and close my eyes. I'm so tired, I fall asleep instantly.

Someone shakes me awake. I open my eyes and see my brother. "Come on, little sister. Time to kill some walkers."

I nod, and get up. We walk over to Rick, who's going over the game plan. "Hershel, you open and close the gate after Glenn, Maggie, T-Dog, Daryl and I go in. Clary, Carl, Lori, Carol, and Beth, you stay out here and try to attract walkers. Pop 'em through the fence again. Clary and Carl, don't argue. I know you want to come, but I need you out here. Okay, everybody ready?"

We nod, and Hershel opens the gate. Rick goes in first, followed by T-Dog, Glenn, Maggie, and Daryl. They use their knives, seeing as we don't have much ammo left. We attract walkers, stabbing them through the fence. My knife is too short, so I use an arrow instead. Carl laughs at me when he sees me stabbing walkers with an arrow.

Rick, T-Dog, Maggie, Glenn and Daryl stay in a tight circle, stabbing walkers. The only time they break rank is when T-Dog grabs a riot shield. The dark skinned man butts walkers with it.

Lori moves over to Carol and I. "I can't see them. Can you see them?"

"Back there, by the door," I say. The others finish off some of the walkers, and stand in the open. We crowd at the fence, waiting to get in. We watch as they go into the prison. A few minutes later, Daryl comes out, telling us to come in.

We follow my brother inside, and Rick unlocks Cell Block C. "It's secure?" Lori asks.

"This cell block is," Rick answers.

"What about the rest of the prison?" Hershel inquires.

"Tomorrow, we'll do what we can."

"We sleep in the cells?" Beth asks. Rick nods.

"I ain't sleeping in no cage. I'll take the perch," Daryl says, walking to the second floor. I follow him up, and go into an empty cell. Beth follows me in.

"These cells give me the creeps," Beth says.

"They creep me out too. My brother definitely doesn't like the cells, he spent time in prison when he was a kid."

"Daryl was in prison?"

"Oh, no. I meant my other brother, Merle."

"Didn't know you had a second brother."

"Oh yeah, Merle's the oldest. He went missing in Atlanta, right before we left. We went to the CDC, nothing there. We were on the road for about a week after the CDC. Then, Sophia went missing and Carl was shot."

"I wonder what really happened to Otis at the high school."

"What do you mean?" I ask, and Beth sits down beside me.

"I don't believe what Shane said, about Otis sacrificing himself so Shane could come back with the meds. It's always made me wonder. I mean, what Shane said sounded true, but at the same time it really didn't."

"To be honest, I agree with what Dale said. Shane shot Otis so he could get away," I say. Carl appears in the doorway. "This place is so gross."

"Remember the storage units?" I ask, and Carl laughs. Beth gets up and leaves. I swing my legs onto the bed. "It's actually comfortable. Check it out."

Carl looks on the top bunk, and starts to take the backpack he's carrying off. Daryl stands in the doorway. "You find your cell yet, Carl?"

Carl freezes, then turns around. "Not yet. I was just making sure Clary was safe."

Daryl looks down at Carl. "I'm her big brother. I can do that."

Carl leaves, avoiding Daryl's green eyes. My brother chuckles, pleased with himself. He reaches for the top mattress. "I'm taking this. You mind?"

I shake my head, and he takes the mattress to the perch.

The next day, T-Dog, Rick, Glenn, Hershel, Daryl, and I stand around a table, looking at weapons that one of them found. Daryl picks up a helmet, and walker slime drips from it. "I ain't wearing this shit."

T-Dog picks up a glove with slime on it. "We could boil them."

"Ain't enough wood in the forest. No way," I say.

"Besides, we've made it this far without them," my brother says.

Hershel walks off with Carol, per her request. T-Dog puts on a bullet-proof vest, while Carl puts on a helmet that keeps falling off. Rick goes over to Carl. "You won't need that. I need you to stay put."

"You're kidding," Carl says, taking off the helmet. "Clary's going."

"Yes, I know. But we don't know what's in there. Something goes wrong you could be the last man standing. I need you to handle things here."

"Sure."

"Great. Let's go," Rick says, handing Carl one set of keys to the cell. Daryl has the other set. Daryl, Rick, Glenn, Maggie, T-Dog, Hershel and I walk out of the cell block, with Carl closing the door behind us.

Rick and Daryl lead the way, flash lights in their hands. Glenn and Maggie bring up the rear, spray painting arrows to help us find out way back. We keep going, and Daryl and Rick round a corner. I hear the growling and know what it is before they even say. "Go back," Rick hisses. "There's walkers. Go back!"

Glenn and Maggie turn around and run. We follow them. Daryl catches up to me and grabs my hand, telling me to move faster. Somehow, Maggie and Glenn get separated from the rest of us. We crouch in a closet. "Where's Maggie and Glenn?" Rick asks.

"We have to go back," Hershel whispers.

"But where?" Daryl asks. We go out, Daryl and I leading. There aren't any walkers. Hershel quietly calls their names, and the sound echoes off the walls.

"Rick?" Glenn's voice, followed by Maggie's. "Dad?"

I don't know what happened next, it was so fast. Hershel wandered away, towards the sound of their voices. Then, he screamed. Rick, Daryl, T-Dog and I followed his scream. Rick fired his gun and the walker biting Hershel's right calf slumped against the wall.

Glenn and Maggie come around the corner. "No!" Glenn cried.

More walkers come around the third corner. "Maggie!" Hershel cries.

"Daddy!" Maggie says. Rick and Glenn hook their arms under Hershel's, and lift him. We can't go back the way we came, walkers are coming that way. We go the way Maggie and Glenn came, with T-Dog busting the handcuffs closing the door at the end of the hall. Daryl and I hold off walkers.

Glenn and Rick carry Hershel in the room, and lay him on the floor. Daryl, T-Dog and I hold the doors closed, and I notice the room looks like the cafeteria. T-Dog puts his rod-iron fire-place poker through the door handles, keeping it closed. Rick tells us to hold Hershel down. Daryl and I leave to hold down Hershel, while T-Dog holds the doors closed.

Rick uses his belt to tie Hershel's leg, cutting off blood. He takes out a hatchet. "There's only one way to save your life, Hershel. You ready?"

Hershel doesn't answer, only whimpers. Maggie holds hid head, while I hold his arm down. I swing my crossbow on my back since it keeps getting in my way. I look away, and Rick cuts off Hershel's leg. Hershel passes out halfway through, and Rick finishes. "He's bleeding out," Rick says.

I hear a rattling across the room. I let go of Hershel's arm and aim my crossbow. "Duck."

Daryl follows my gaze. Daryl says something that rhymes with what I said, and aims his crossbow. We get up and carefully walk over. He shines his light on five people. One with light skin, honey blonde hair, a mustache of the same color, and blue eyes looks directly at me. His mouth is wide. "Holy shit."


	3. Sick

Rick gets up and stands next to me. "Who the hell are you?" Daryl asks.

"Who the hell are you?" one of the prison survivors asks.

"He's bleeding out. We gotta go back," Rick says, turning his attention back to Hershel. "Glenn, come here. Put pressure on the knee. Push hard!"

"Why don't you come on out of there," I say.

"Slow and steady," my brother says. The five survivors walk out in single file.

"What happened to him?" the lead survivor asks, peering around Daryl's shoulder.

"He got bit."

"Bit?" The lead survivor reaches for his gun.

"Whoa whoa whoa," I say. Daryl and I aim our crossbows at him, and T-Dog cocks his pistol. "Easy now."

"Nobody needs to get hurt," Daryl says. The lead survivor, who looks a little Hispanic and has black, curly hair, points his gun at Daryl, then T-Dog, back at Daryl, and then to me. That probably isn't the smartest move to make if you know my brother.

Daryl's finger closes around the trigger. "Daryl, don't," I hiss.

He doesn't remove his finger, but doesn't fire the crossbow either. "He has his gun on you. You ain't getting shot, baby sister."

The lead survivor quickly points his gun away from me. He points it at my brother instead, realizing that Daryl is the larger threat. Rick tells Maggie to hold down on her father's knee, and Glenn walks forward, right into to the line of fire. "Hey, dumbass, get back," I say.

"Do you have medical supplies?" Glenn asks, ignoring me. He walks past the prisoners into the cafeteria.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" a survivor asks.

"Who the hell are you people, anyway?" asks the lead survivor.

"Don't look like no rescue team," says the honey blonde hair prisoner.

"If a rescue team is what you're waiting for, don't," Rick says. Glenn is making a racket in the kitchen, and walkers are banging on the doors. Hershel's breathing hard, and I know he's awake.

Glenn rolls a steel cart past us, and I hear Rick and him set Hershel on it. "C'mon, we gotta go," Rick says.

"Holy Jesus," one survivor exclaims, seeing Hershel's leg.

"T, the door," Rick grunts.

A short black prisoner looks at us with wide eyes. "Are you crazy? Don't open that!"

T-Dog opens it, and a single walker comes through. He quickly kills it. "Daryl! Clary! C'mon," Rick cries, pushing the cart.

Daryl and I follow him, with the leader's gun pointed at us. We run back through the halls, Daryl and I shooting walkers. I hear footsteps behind us. "Stop, stop," Rick whispers, hearing them too.

"Follow the flashlight." A prisoner's voice, the short black one.

"Come on," says the leader, "let's go."

I see them come around the corner, their leader in front. "Go go go go go," Rick whispers.

We start off again, Daryl pushing me behind him. We still aim our crossbows at the prisoners. We get back to Cell Block C, my brother unlocking the first cell door. "C'mon! Carl! It's Hershel! Unlock the door!" Rick grunts.

We come around the corner, Carol standing at the door. Carl hurries and opens it. We hurry through, and Carl locks it again. "Oh, my God," Carol says, tugging at her short hair.

"Daddy!" Beth cries. She starts forward, but I hold her back. She fights against me. "Beth, Beth. Easy, Beth. Just stand back for a little while. Hershel'll be fine. Don't worry."

She stops struggling, and the others take Hershel to an empty cell. "Get 'em on the bed," Rick says, completely calm.

Beth and I stand in the doorway. "He got bit," Daryl says.

"Oh my God he's gonna turn," Beth cries, pushing past me.

"Did you cut it off?" Lori asks.

"Yeah," Rick says.

"Maybe you got it off in time," Carol says. They lift him onto the bed. "Oh, oh, I need bandages."

"We used everything we have," says Glenn.

"Well, get more! Anything!"

"Carl, go get the towels from the back, right next to my bed," Lori says. "Take Clary with you."

We run off, but not before I hear Beth say what we're all thinking: "Is he gonna die?"

"No no no, no. No, he's gonna be okay," Lori assures her. "He's gonna be okay. He'll be okay."

Carl reaches the back, grabs an armful of towels, and sprints back to me. He dumps them in my arms and turns back for the rest of them. I run back to group, Carl right behind me. "Can you stabilize him?" Rick's asking.

"I need to keep him leg elevated," Carol says. "Get some pillows!"

"He's already bled through the sheets," Maggie says, and Beth runs off to get pillows.

"We can burn the wound to clot the blood. I-I can start a fire," Glenn says.

Carol glances up at Glenn, then back to Hershel. "No, the shock could kill him. It's not gonna stop the arteries from bleeding. We need to just keep it dressed and let it heal on its own."

Lori hands Carol towels, taking them from my arms. She takes the rest of the towels from me and the ones from Carl, sitting them on the chair behind her. Daryl goes over to the perch, reloading his crossbow. Carl and I go downstairs, and sit on the floor. We lean against the wall, and Carl reaches for a piece of cloth laying on the ground. "Look here," he says.

I look at him, and he reaches up, the cloth in one hand, holding my chin with the other. He carefully wipes Hershel's blood from my cheek, barely touching my face. After even I know the blood's gone, Carl still keeps his hand under my chin, his slender fingers lightly touching my cheek. He stares at me, his blue eyes concentrated. I decide that Hershel's blood must have splattered on me when Rick was cutting his leg off, just below his knee. That's when I hear the footsteps approaching.

I whip my crossbow off my back and roll onto my knee, aiming it at the door. Carl sees me do this and pulls out his gun. The leader appears out of the darkness–at the door–first. The others crowd around him. "Don't come any closer," Carl says, his voice steady, "That's far enough."

"We can't come any closer. Door locked, hello?" the leader says.

"Shut up, jackass," I say. The leader reaches for his gun, and Daryl comes down the stairs, his crossbow pointing at the leader.

"Today's your lucky day, fellas," Daryl says. "You've been pardoned by the state of Georgia. You're free to go."

"What you got going on in there?" asks the leader.

"It ain't none of your concern."

"Don't be telling me what's my concern." The leader pulls his gun out, aiming it at my brother. I hold my hand out behind me, and Carl hands me his second handgun. With my crossbow in my left hand, I aim the gun at the leader.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, burro," I say. The leader looks at me, surprised, considering I just insulted him in his own language.

"Chill, vatos. Dude's leg is messed up," says one of the other survivors. The tallest one, who is also Hispanic, only less. If I had to guess, I'd say his parents were Hispanic and he grew up in the U.S. "Besides, we're free now. Why are even still in here?"

"Man's gotta point," my brother says.

"Yeah, and I gotta check on my old lady," another survivor says, this one also black and clearly from somewhere in the South.

"A group of civilians, breaking into a prison they got no business being in, got me thinking there ain't no place for us to go," says the leader.

"Why don't you to find out?" Carl asks.

"Maybe we'll just be going now," says the prisoner with blonde hair.

"Hey, we ain't leaving," the leader says.

"You ain't coming in here either," T-Dog says, coming out of the cell where Hershel is.

The leader points his gun at the approaching T-Dog. "Hey, this is my house, my rules. I'll go where I damn well please."

"Why don't you just drop that gun, idiota," I say, and cock Carl's gun.

"What'd you just call me?"

"You heard me, burro."

"Oh, I know you ain't calling me that." The leader points his gun at me. Everyone starts arguing and yelling.

"I've already told you once, and I ain't gonna tell you again. Get your gun away from her, you son of a bitch!" Daryl yells.

"Hey hey hey! Relax!" Rick cries, running out to where we are. "There's no need for this."

"He has his gun on Clary," Daryl says, his index finger on the trigger of his crossbow.

"Yes, I know. Put your bow down," Rick says. Daryl doesn't listen to him. Rick waves his hand, telling the lead prison survivor to put his gun down, which is on our leader. Like my brother, he doesn't listen.

"How many of you are in there?" asks the leader.

"Too many for you to handle."

"Hell yeah!" Daryl says rather loudly. Rick glances at him.

The prisoner's leader follows our leader's glance. "You guys rob a bank or something?"

I almost laugh at that, but I don't when the leader continues. "Why don't you take him to a hospital?"

We're all silent, glancing at each other. Carl breaks the silence. "How long y'all been locked in that cafeteria?"

"Going on like ten months," their leader says. I glance down, then back up at the leader. Daryl and I've been with Rick's group for that long, since the apocalypse started.

"A riot broke out," says the tallest survivor. "Never seen anything like it."

"Attica on speed, man," says the blonde prisoner.

"Ever hear about dudes going cannibal, dying, coming back to life?" asks the short black prisoner, "Crazy."

"One guard looked out for us, locked us up in the cafeteria. Told us sit tight, threw me this piece right here—" the leader gestures to the handgun "—said he'd be right back."

"Yeah, that was two hundred ninety-two days ago," says the tall prisoner.

"Looks like that guard needs to look on his definition of 'right back,'" I say. The blonde prisoner glances at me, and gives me a small grin that quickly disappears when Daryl looks at him.

The tall prisoner continues. "We kept thinking that the Army or the National Guard should be showing up any day now."

"There is no Army," says Rick, his voice gravely.

"What do you mean?"

"There's no government, no hospitals, no police. It's all gone."

"For real?" the blonde prisoner asks. He has a strong Gorigeia accent.

"Serious," says Rick.

"What about my moms?" the tall prisoner asks.

"My kids? And my old lady?" the prisoner from the South says. "Yo, you got a cell phone or something that we can call our families?"

"You just don't get it, do you?" Daryl asks.

"No phones, no computers," I say.

"As far as we can see, at least half the population has been wiped out," Carl says. I carefully get to my feet, and Carl follows my example. The leader points his gun away from Rick to me.

"Easy," I say, "I'm just standing up. Concrete's hard."

The leader nods, understanding, and goes back to pointing his gun at Rick. "Probably more," Carl says.

Shock registers on all of their faces. "Ain't no way," says the leader.

"See for yourself," T-Dog says. The leader lowers his gun, putting it in a pocket in his prison jumpsuit. We lead them to the caged in stairwell, and the southern survivor walks out first. Rick, Daryl, Carl, and I follow them.

"Man, this sun feels good," says the southern survivor. He ignores all the walker bodies, but the blonde prisoner doesn't.

"Good Lord," he says, "They're all dead."

"Never thought I'd be so happy to see these fences," the leader says, also ignoring the walker bodies.

The short prisoner looks at Daryl and I. "You never said, how'd you get in this prison in the first place?"

"You never told us your names," I say. "And you know two of ours."

"Good point. I'll tell you mine if you tell us how you got in."

"Cut a hole in that fence over by that guard tower," Daryl says, pointing to the tower where we shot walkers from.

"Andrew," says the short prisoner.

"Clary, but y'all already know that."

"True."

"Daryl," my brother says. "Don't mess with her, or I'll stomp your ass."

My brother walks away, towards the leader. Andrew stands next to me. "He your big brother?"

"How'd ya guess?" I says sarcastically. We catch up with Daryl.

"So, it's that easy, huh?" Andrew asks.

"Where there's a will, there's a way," Daryl says.

"Easy for you to say."

The tall prisoner pokes at a dead walker with a stick. "So what is this, like a disease?"

"Yeah," Carl says, "and we're all infected."

The blonde prisoner looks at him. "What do ya mean infected? Like AIDS or something?"

"Let me give you an example, uh what's your name?" I say.

"Axel."

"Let me give you an example, Axel. If was to kill you, shoot an arrow in your chest—"

"—You'd come back as one of these things," Daryl finishes.

The blonde survivor, Axel, looks at my brother and I. "It's creepy how you finish each other's sentences."

"Yeah, we know. But it's gonna happen to all of us when we die," Daryl says.

"Ain't no way these Robin Hood cats killed all of these freaks," says the leader.

"Must be fifty bodies out here," Andrew says.

"Where'd you come from?" the leader asks.

"Atlanta," Carl says, looking at the leader.

"Where ya headed?"

"At the moment, nowhere," Rick says.

I can sense the tension between the two leaders. Carl must sense it, too, because he takes a few steps so he's standing next to me. The leader points at a spot outside the fences. "Guess you could take that area down by the water right there. Should be comfortable."

"No, we were here first. This is our piece of dirt," I say.

Rick glances at me over his shoulder. I shrug. "Hey, it's true."

"We're using that field for crops," Rick says, turning back to the other man.

"We'll help you move your gear out," he offers.

"That won't be necessary," Rick says. "We took out these walkers. This prison is ours."

"Slow down, cowboy."

"You snatched the locks off our doors," Andrew says, going to stand next to his leader. Daryl moves closer to Rick, and Carl, T-Dog and I follow. We stand next to our leader, facing the threat.

"We'll give you new locks, if that's how you want it," Rick says.

"This is our prison. We were here first," their leader says. Axel, the southern survivor, and the tall prisoner, stand off to the side, watching the exchange.

"Locked in a broom closet?" Rick snorts. "We took it, set you free. It's ours. We spilled blood."

"We're moving back into our cell block," their leader says, referring to Cell Block C.

"You'll have to get your own, burro," I say. The leader seems to accept my nickname for him.

"It is my, idiota. I still got personal artifacts in there. That's about as mine as it gets," the leader says. My jaw drops, more out of anger than surprise. Carl knows me so well, he has his arm around my waist, holding me back before I even decide to try to kill the burro of a leader.

The prisoner's leader pulls out his gun, and Daryl holds his crossbow up. T-Dog cocks his gun, and Carl holds his out one handed. I swing my crossbow into place, but Carl keeps his arm around me. I relax, hoping he'll let go, but he keeps it around my waist. Maybe he just forgot it's there, but I don't. I can feel his breath on my right cheek, his chest pressed into my back. Axel steps in. "Whoa whoa whoa. Maybe—let's try to work this out so everybody wins."

"I don't see that happening," the burro says.

"Neither do I," Rick says, after a second's pause.

"I ain't going back in that cafeteria for one more minute."

"There are other cell blocks, Tomas," Axel says.

"You could leave," Daryl hisses, glancing at me. "Try your luck out on the road."

The tension in the air is even stronger now. Tomas and Rick stare at each other, leader versus leader. Tomas glances at all of us. "These five pussies can do all this, the least we can do is take out another cell block. And hell, two of them are twelve."

"I'm almost fifteen," Carl hisses. "Clary is fifteen."

"With what?" asks the tall prisoner, ignoring Carl and I.

"Atlanta here will spot us some real weapons," says Tomas. "Won't you, boss?"

"How stocked is that cafeteria?" Rick asks. "It must have plenty of food. Five guys lasting almost a year?"

"It sure don't look like anyone's be starving," Daryl says.

"There's only a little left," says Tomas.

I turn my head a little so I'm looking at Carl sideways. "Let me go," I softly whisper.

Carl glances down and realizes his arm is still around my waist. He slowly removes it so the prisoners don't think we're making a move.

"We'll take half," Rick says, and I quickly look back towards Tomas. Carl stays up against me, even though his arm is no longer around me.

"In exchange, we'll help clear out a cell block," Rick continues.

"Didn't you hear him?" Andrew says, as the others crowd behind Tomas. "There's only a little left."

"Bet you got more food than you got choices," Daryl says.

"You pay, we'll play," Carl says. "We'll clear out a block for you, then you keep to it."

Tomas is quiet for a moment, considering it. "All right."

"But let's be clear, if we see you out here, anywhere near our people, if I so much as even catch a whiff of your scent," Rick threatens. "_I will kill you."_

Tomas and Rick's faces are a few inches apart, locked in a heated staring contest. Tomas glances down, then back up at Rick. "Deal."

Tomas and the other prisoners lead us back to the cafeteria. We go in, and Tomas looks over his shoulder. "Pantry's back here."

T-Dog looks around. "You never tried to break outta here?"

The Southern prisoner, who introduced himself as Oscar on the way here, turns to look at us. "Yeah, we tried to take the doors off. But if you make one peep in here, those freaks will be lined up outside the doors, growling, trying to get in."

"What about the windows?" I ask standing next to T-Dog. I hold my crossbow in front of me, ready to use it if I need to.

"Windows got bars on 'em that He-Man couldn't get through."

"Bigger than a five by eight," Axel says, crossing his arms.

"You won't find me complaining," says the tall prisoner. "Doing fifteen. My left leg can barely fit on one of those bunks."

"Yeah, they don't call him Big Tiny for nothing," Oscar says.

"You done jerking each other off?" Tomas asks, standing in the doorway to the kitchen. "Sick of waiting back here."

Tomas turns and walks away. I notice Rick's hand moves to the grip of his revolver, and he follows the prisoners. I fall in behind Daryl, with Carl next to me. We walk into the pantry, and it's almost fully stocked. My brother walks forward, shining his flashlight on some of the food.

"This is what you call a little bit of food?" Daryl asks, standing right in front of Tomas.

"Goes fast," he says.

"Mm-hmm." Daryl walks around the prisoner's leader, looking at the other food.

"You can have a bag of corn, some tuna fish—" Tomas says, but before he can continue he's cut off by Carl.

"We said half. That the deal," Carl says, standing right next to me, so close I can feel the heat coming from him in the chilly prison air. We take some food, carrying it back to our cell block. "Food's here," T-Dog calls.

Glenn appears at the first door with the keys. Carl gave him his set before we left. He unlocks it, all of us carrying food into the lounge room. I wouldn't really call it that, but it has that sort of feeling. There's lots of tables, and a guard station. We sit food on the tables. "What do you have?" Glenn asks.

"Canned corn, canned beef, canned cans," T-Dog says.

I follow him. "In other words, lots of canned stuff."

"There's a lot more where this came from."

We carry some of the food into the cells. "Any change?" Rick asks Lori.

"Bleeding is under control and there's no fever," she says. "But his breath is labored and his pulse is way down. And he hasn't opened his eyes yet."

Carl and I sit at the top of the steps, while Daryl sits at the perch, examining his crossbow. We watch the exchange going on below. "Take my cuffs," Rick says, turning around so Lori can take the handcuffs. "Put 'em in him. I'm not taking any chances."

Lori takes them, and hands them to Glenn. She follows Rick to one side of the room. "So what about those prisoners?"

Rick sighs. "We're gonna help them clear out their own cell block. Then they'll be there and we'll be here."

Seeing that we're back, Beth comes up the stairs. She sits down on a step below us, leaning against my knees. "Guess we can start stealing each other's breakfast again," she says.

Carl and I laugh. Back on the farm, we would joke and take each other's breakfast. Even though she's three years older than us, Carl and I get along with Beth well. Daryl gets up and walks around Carl, Beth and I down the stairs. He starts to walk out the door. "Hey, Daryl," I call.

My brother stops and looks over his shoulder at me. "Yeah?"

"You going to get more food?"

"Yeah. I'll only be gone a few minutes."

"Do you want any help carrying it?"

"Sure, why not?" Daryl says, and I walk down the stairs. We go get some more boxes of food, sitting some of it lounge room, the rest in the cells. We go to get more of the food, but Rick calls our names. "Daryl, Clary. We're gonna go clear the other cell block. You coming?"

"Yeah, we're coming," I say. We go to walk off with Rick, and Carl follows us. Daryl and I go out into the lounge, and see the prisoners there. We set various weapons on a table, but not any guns or knives. We set crowbars and baseball bats on the table. Rick comes out, with T-Dog instead of Carl. "Where's Carl?" I ask.

"He didn't want to come," Rick says, but I know he's lying. I heard the two talking; Carl wanted to come, but Rick wouldn't let him.

Tomas picks up a crowbar. "Why do I have to use this, when I can use—" he takes out his gun "—this."

"You don't fire guns, not unless your back's up against a wall," I say. Oscar holds an axe, Andrew holds a baseball bat, Axel a metal pipe, and Big Tiny holds a wrench.

"Yeah, noise attracts 'em," Daryl says. "Really riles 'em up."

"We'll go in two by two," Rick says, then remembers I'm there. "Except for Clary. She'll run point with Daryl and T. Tomas and I'll bring up the rear. They rest of y'all, pair up. Stay tight, don't break formation, no matter how close the walkers get. Anyone breaks rank, we'll all go down. Anyone runs off, they could get mistaken for a walker, end up with an axe to the head."

"And that's where you aim," Daryl says. "These things only go down with a headshot."

"You ain't gotta tell us how to take out a man," Tomas says, looking at Andrew.

"They ain't men. They're something else," T-Dog says.

"Just remember," I say. "Go for the brain."

We walk off, getting in formation. We walk through some of the prison, without seeing any walkers. Daryl rounds a corner first, shining his flashlight. "Man, it's too dark in here," Oscar says.

"Gotta hold it up high in front of you," I say, gesturing to his axe. "You're gonna hear 'em before you see 'em."

I can hear a faint rattling, a walker. "It's coming," Axel says, loudly.

"Shh," Rick hisses. Daryl holds up his hand, telling us to stop. We do, and three walkers come around the corner. Daryl holds up his fingers, counting to three. He never gets to it, because the prisoners charge the walkers, yelling.

They hack away at the walkers, but they don't kill them. They stab their stomachs and hearts, but they still don't kill them. You have to get them in the brain, that's the only way you can kill them. They yell insults at the walkers, and I raise my eyebrows. Daryl, Rick, T-Dog and I stand side by side, staring at the prisoners. "Hey, dumbasses," I say.

They stop and stare at me. "Let the walkers go," I continue. "I'll show y'all how it's done."

They do as I say, and stand against the wall, watching me. I shoot a walker that was getting up, and start forward. I take out a knife, and stab the second walker. Without turning around, I take out my longer knife and stab the last walker. I turn around, and pull the knife from its eye socket. I stand in front of the prisoners, and their eyes are wide. "Let's go," I say.

Daryl and T-Dog come up to meet me, since we're leading. Daryl rounds another corner, shining his flashlight. A walker comes through the doorway. "It's gotta be the brain," my brother says, his crossbow up.

Daryl shoots the crossbow, and the arrow pierces a walker's forehead. The rest of the group follows T-Dog, Daryl and I. "Not the stomach, not the heart. The brain," I say, and shoot another walker.

"I hear you. The brain," Axel says. Another walker comes around the other corner, and Oscar quickly puts his axe in its head. Oscar pulls the axe out and backs up. "Like that?"

"Uh-huh," I say. Another walker comes, and Axel drives his metal pipe through its eye socket. He gets back in formation and a third walker comes through the doorframe. Rick buries his knife in its forehead, and backs up. "Stay in tight formation," he says as more walkers come through the doorway.

"No more prison riot crap," I say. We start stabbing, or in Andrew's case, bashing, the walkers. Suddenly, Big Tiny screams. Two walkers are on him. Rick stabs one, and Tomas fires three shots, hitting the second walker. Rick glares at Tomas, who shrugs. Big Tiny wipes his shoulder, and his hand comes away bloody.

Rick checks out Big Tiny's shoulder; it's a long scratch. Big Tiny turns around. "I'm telling you, I don't feel anything. It's just a scratch."

"I'm sorry, man," Rick says.

"I can keep fighting!"

"You cut that old guy's leg off to save his life," Andrew says.

"Do you see where that bite is?" I say. "It's on his shoulder. Big Tiny, I'm sorry, but we can't do anything."

"Guys! I'm fine!" Big Tiny cries. "Just– I'm fine. Look at me, I'm not turning into one of those things."

"Look, man, there has to be something we can do," Oscar says. "We could just lock him up."

"Quarantine him," Axel suggests.

"We gotta do something. Why you just standing there?" says Andrew. "We gotta save him!"

"There's nothing we can do," Rick solemnly says.

"You son of a bitch," Andrew says.

"I'm all ri—" Big Tiny starts to say, and Daryl understands before anyone else. He steps in to block my view, and Tomas kills Big Tiny. He holds my shoulders, keeping me in place, but I don't want to watch. I had liked Big Tiny, he had been nice to everyone, even though I hadn't known him for ten hours. But then again, if you're nice, then there's a chance you're weak. And the weak get killed.

Daryl lets go of me, and turns around. Tomas face and white tank top is splattered with Big Tiny's blood. His dark eyes have a murderous glare to them. I try not to look at the bloody stump that used to be Big Tiny's head.

We switch places; T-Dog and Oscar take point, Axel and Andrew follows them, then Tomas, and Daryl, Rick and I bring up the rear. "You see the look on his face?" Daryl quietly asks. "He makes one move, just give me a signal."

Rick nods, and T-Dog opens a door to the laundry room. There's another set of closed doors at the end of the room, with walkers banging on them. There aren't any walkers in the room, just the ones behind the closed doors. Rick throws his keys to the ground, and they land next to Tomas. Tomas takes one look at them, then looks at Rick. "I ain't opening that."

"Yes you are," Rick says quickly. "If you want this cell block, you're gonna open that door. Just the one, not both of them. 'Cause we need to control this."

Tomas sighs and picks up the keys. He unlocks the doors, and turns to us. "You guys ready?" He looks at me. "How 'bout you, Badass McGee?"

We nod. He goes to open the doors, and they stick. Tomas tugs at them. "I got this."

He tugs a third time, and both doors open. "I said one!" Rick yells.

"Shit happens!" Tomas yells right back. We start killing the walkers, with T-Dog butting some with his riot shield. Tomas swings his crowbar, killing a walker, but narrowly missing Rick. Our leader leans back, and straightens up, glaring at the prison leader.

Tomas looks at Rick, and back at a walker. He shoves it at Rick, and Rick falls on his back, the walker on top of him. He struggles with the walker, and I look at T-Dog. "T, mind the gap."

I hurry over to Rick. I drive my knife into the walker's skull and pull the walker off of him. Rick takes my outstretched hand, and I pull him up as the stream of walkers stops.

Rick faces Tomas. "It was coming at me, bro," the prison survivor says.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. I get it," Rick says. His machete shifts in his hand. "Shit happens."

Rick and Tomas are silent, staring at each other. Rick pulls his arm back, the machete in his hand. "No!" Andrew cries.

Rick sinks the edge of his machete into Tomas's head. The prison leader drops to his knees and Rick pushes his dead body to the ground. Andrew yells a battle cry, and tries to attack Rick. He kicks the prisoner back, and he falls over a walker's body.

Andrew gets up and runs off. Daryl holds his crossbow, aimed at Oscar. I aim mine at Axel, and T-Dog holds his gun to Axel's head. "I got him," Rick says, and chases Andrew.

"Man, get down on your knees," Daryl says, and the two prisoners listen to him.

"Drop your weapons," I say harshly. The two prisoners listen to me. Axel looks at me with wide eyes.

"We don't have no affiliation to what just happened," Axel says. "Tell him, Oscar."

"Shut up," I say bitterly. Axel glances at me, half scared. A minute later, Rick comes back. He holds his gun to Oscar's head. "We didn't have nothing to do with that," the prisoner says.

"You didn't know?" Rick says. "You knew. Daryl, let's end this now."

Rick whips around and his gun is at Axel's head. "Sir, sir," Axel says, pleading, "you gotta listen to me, please! It was them that was bad! It wasn't us!"

"Oh, that's convenient. Now shut up," I say.

"You saw what he did to Tiny. He was my friend. Please, we ain't like that. I like my pharmaceuticals, but I'm no killer. Oscar here, he's a B and E, and he ain't no good at it either. We—"

"I said shut up!"

"We ain't the violent kind, they were! Please, I swear to God! I wanna live!"

"Man, she said shut up!" Daryl yells.

Rick turns around and his gun is back to Oscar. "What about you?"

"I ain't never pleaded for my life," he says. "And I ain't about to start now. So you do what you gotta do."

We take the prisoners to an empty cell block. Daryl unlocks the door, and Rick and T-Dog shove the prisoners in. Every cell door is open, and the dead bodies of walkers lay at each door. Their hands are zip tied behind their backs, and a single bullet hole is in each head. Dried blood pools around their heads. "Oh man," Oscar says.

"I knew these guys," says Axel. "They were good men."

I stare at the walker bodies, and realize some of them were never walkers. Daryl's familiar hand slides into mine. "Let's go," Rick says.

"So you're just gonna leave us in here?" Oscar asks. "Man, this is sick."

"We're locking down this cell block. From now on, this part of the prison is yours. Take it or leave it. That was the deal." Rick turns and walks out of the cell block. I stay next to Daryl, waiting for him.

My brother shifts on his feet. "You think this is sick? You don't wanna know what's outside. C'mon, Clary."

"Consider yourselves the lucky ones," Rick says, standing just outside the door. He walks away, and Daryl looks over his shoulder for Rick. "Sorry 'bout your friends, man."

Daryl follows me out of the cell block. We wait for T-Dog outside of the cell. "A word of advice," he says, "take those bodies outside and burn them."

T-Dog turns and follows us back to Cell Block C. Rick walks in first, over to where Hershel is. "Hershel stopped breathing," Carl says. "Mom saved him."

"It's true," Glenn says, looking at Rick. Our leader goes inside the cell, and I sit down, leaning against the wall where Carl and I where earlier. I pick up the cloth and a bloodied arrow. I start to clean it and feel someone stand next to me. Looking up, I see it's Carl.

"You mind if I sit?" Carl asks, and I shake my head. He sits down next to me and takes his hat off. He takes one look at me and chuckles.

"What?" I ask.

"You're covered in walker blood. Stay here, I'll be right back." Carl gets up and walks off. He comes back a minute later with a small towel and a bottle of water. Pouring a little of the water on the towel, he sits down again. He rubs the cool towel on my cheek, and I study him. "You know," I say, "I can do this myself."

Carl pauses and looks at me. "Yeah, I know."

"Then why are you going it?"

He ignores the question and goes back to rubbing the towel. "How many walkers did you kill?"

"A few."

"Like, a few as in one or two, or a few as in a lot?"

"Second one."

"Thought so."

"I had to teach the prisoners how to kill the walkers. Scared half of them."

"Five prisoners scared of a fifteen year old girl. That's new."

"I am a Dixon."

"That's true." He moves the towel to my other cheek.

"What happened here?" I ask.

"Hershel stopped breathing, and my mom saved him."

I notice Carol isn't in the cell block. "Where's Carol?"

"She needed Glenn's help with something. She's still outside."

I nod, and Carl finishes wiping the walker blood off of me. He sits next to me and I go back to cleaning my arrows and knives. "I miss my phone," I say.

"I miss my friends," Carl says.

"I didn't have many."

"Why not?"

"Dixon, remember?"

Carl looks at me, his eyebrows raised.

"I'm kidding. It wasn't because I'm a Dixon. I was always the odd one out, scary because I could use any weapon, or anything as a weapon. I was the one that had the scary big brother. The one with—" I stop, and look down.

"The one with the what?"

_The one with the scars. _I look up at him. "The one with the walker knowledge. Kids never believed me, same with the teachers. Teachers always said I'd be good for something. Who knew that something would be walker killing?"

Carl grins. "I knew. When you showed up at camp with your brothers, taking out walkers with just a knife and crossbow. I think I knew."

I put my weapons down next to me and look up at him. He smiles down at me, and I smile up at him. I think I feel something deeper than friendship beginning to form between us, and I think he feels it too.


	4. Killer Within

I sit on a stair above Carl while he cleans one of his guns. T-Dog, Carol, Glenn, Maggie, Rick and Daryl are outside clearing the walker bodies and moving the cars. Daryl told me to sit this one out, he told me to let them handle it. I didn't object; I always wind up in the dangerous group, and I figured walkers would probably attack them or something. I turn and go up the stairs to get the cloth I use to clean my crossbow.

Sitting back down on the step above Carl, I put my crossbow in my lap. I start to polish it, and Carl looks up at me. "I don't even know why you clean it. It's not dirty, and it doesn't have any walker blood on it."

"It gives me something to do," I say, looking down at him.

He goes back to cleaning his handgun, then pauses. "I have watch tonight."

"Yeah, I know. We're on watch together, though I'm pretty sure it's just Rick and Daryl trying to set us up," I say, trying to keep a straight face, but I end up grinning.

Carl laughs. "Yeah, it does seem like it, doesn't it?"

"Definitely. But what's your point?"

"I don't know. I was, I've been thinking, you know, maybe—"

"Spit it out, Carl."

"I thought that maybe we could bring some food along and have a picnic, just the two of us."

I freeze, and he looks up at me. "Clary?"

I look down at him. "Yeah. That sounds good."

Carl grins, and goes back to cleaning his gun. I set the cloth down and redo the braid in my hair, tucking some pieces of my dark hair under my teal beanie. Lori and Beth walk back through the door. Lori carries crutches for Hershel. He's been recovering from the loss of his leg a few days ago.

Carl stops cleaning and gets up, following them to Hershel's cell. I get up, my crossbow over my shoulder. We follow Lori and Beth into the cell, and stand in the doorway. Hershel sits up, and Lori holds the crutches for him. "Just take your time," she says, smiling.

Hershel scoots to the edge of the bed. "Daddy, don't push yourself," Beth says.

He chuckles, and stands up, putting the crutches under his arms. "What else am I going to do? Can't stand looking up at the bottom of that bunk anymore—"

Hershel stumbles, and Lori and Beth move to catch him, their hands on his shoulders. Tapping the crutches on the floor before taking a step, he says, "You know, I think I'm pretty steady."

Carl and I move out of the way, but we still watch. "That's a good start," Lori says. "Want to take a rest?"

Hershel looks at her like she's crazy. "Rest? Let's go for a little stroll."

He walks out of the cell before she can respond. Lori opens the doors for him, and then she opens the door to the caged stairwell. She goes down backwards, a step ahead of him. "Got you here if you need it."

"Just take your time on those steps," Beth says. Hershel starts to fall backwards, and we steady him. He makes it down the stairs and into the first courtyard. Carol, Maggie and T-Dog are bringing the cars up. Rick, Daryl and Glenn come back through the fence, wood in their arms.

Hershel looks around. "You cleared all those bodies out?"

"The others did, yeah," I say.

"It's starting to look like a place we could really live in."

"Hey, you watch your step," Lori says, because Hershel isn't watching where he's walking. "The last thing we need is you falling."

Daryl, Glenn and Rick stop to look up at us. "All right, Hershel!" Glenn yells, but is quickly scolded by my brother, for sound attracts walkers. Glenn turns to look at the walkers coming outside the fence.

"You're doing great, Daddy," Beth says.

"Ready to race, Hershel?" Carl asks with a mischievous grin.

"Give me another day," he says, stopping to look at Carl. "I'll take ya on."

Carl chuckles, and I grin. The three groups all stand in silence, staring at each other with smiles. My smile quickly fades when I hear the snarling a second before Carl.

We whip around and see walkers coming, and a lot of them. Not enough to be an entire herd, but a good amount. "Walkers!" cries Carl, pulling out one of his guns.

"Look out!" I cry, swinging my crossbow into place.

"Get out of there!" Rick yells. I glance over my shoulder to see the three running and Beth leading Hershel somewhere safe. "Now!"

"Clary! Get your ass out of there!" Daryl yells.

Lori, Carl, Maggie, Carol, T-Dog, and I start shooting the walkers. "That gate is open," T-Dog says, looking at where the walkers are coming from.

T-Dog runs for the gate, Carol and I covering him. Maggie goes to the caged stairwell. "Lori! Here!"

Lori and Carl run for the stairs, Maggie closing the door to the stairwell behind them. Carl stands at the door instead of following his mother and Maggie into the prison. "Clary!"

"I'll be right there!" I cry, glancing at him. Carl clings to the door, staring at me.

"Come on! Hurry!"

"Trust me, Carl. I'll be right behind you!"

Carl takes one last look at me, then turns and hesitantly runs into the prison, closing the door behind him. Carol and I follow T-Dog, and I pause to pick up a few arrows along the way, leaving me with about five. T-Dog makes it to the gate, while Carol opens a door to the prison. I reload my crossbow, and hear T-Dog scream. I fire the bow at the walker on him, but it's too late. He's been bitten. "No!" Carol cries.

T-Dog closes the gate, and runs to us, holding his wounded shoulder. He dropped his gun when the walker bit him. We make it inside the prison, closing the door. As we run through the prison, trying to find our way back to Cell Block C, alarms start blaring.

"There's a set of double doors that will lead you to a corridor," T-Dog says, leading us through the halls. "That'll get both of you back to our cell block."

"No, you should stop," Carol says. T-Dog leans against a wall, resting for a second or two. I reload my crossbow, and realize I have three arrows left. I killed a walker while we were running through the prison, and I didn't pick up my arrow.

"I'm getting both of you there!"

"T, stop!" I say.

"Why? Sit here and wait to die? Clary, Carol, I'm leading you out of these tombs."

"I'll do what I have to," Carol says. "You're not becoming one of those things."

"I will too," I say. "There ain't no way you're becoming a walker."

"I can't ask that, of either of you," T-Dog says.

"It's the pact, remember?" Carol says.

"This is God's plan. He'll take care of me. Always has. He's gonna help me lead you two out of these tunnels," T-Dog says, his dark eyes full of determination.

We keep wandering through the tunnels. "We're almost there," T-Dog says.

By now, Carol is practically dragging him. I'm behind them, my short knife up. I'm out of arrows, no thanks to walkers. I dropped my long knife outside. Lights flash, and I hear snarling up ahead. I look ahead of Carol and T-Dog; two walkers round a corner. Carol fires her gun at them, but she's out of ammo.

"Oh, crap," says T-Dog.

"Go back!" I say, there's nothing behind us.

"No. We're close. We're close!" T-Dog charges the walkers, weaponless.

"No!" Carol cries. T-Dog yells something that's lost in the blaring of the alarms, and tackles the two walkers. He pushes them against the wall, and they try to bite him.

T-Dog looks over his shoulder at us, holding the walkers back. "Go!" he screams. "Go!"

He yells for us to go. "Carol, we need to go!" I say.

I grab her arm and pull her with me, both of us staring at T-Dog. We reach the door, and take one last look at the man saving our lives. A walker bites his arm. "Go!" T-Dog yells. "I'm dead! Go!"

Carol drops her gun as the other walker bites into his neck, like a lion bites into an antelope. Blood is everywhere. I pull my blue beanie off, holding it over my heart, the way you do when someone dies. Carol does the same with the scarf wrapped around her head. Carol pushes open the door and pushes me through it, closing it behind her. I dropped my beanie and crossbow when she pushed me through the door, and she dropped her scarf. We run through the prison, forgetting the way T-Dog told us to go.

Twice, we end up back where T-Dog died, and see the two walkers feeding on him Carol and I keep running, we have no clue where we are. Soon, we're hopelessly lost. I know we keep running in circles, because I see a sign that says "Boiler Room" four times. The third time we go by it, there's no sound at all. There were groans from a walker the first two times, it must have gotten out while we were in another part of the prison.

After the fourth time we pass the boiler room, we go down a different corridor. There's a large group of walkers in this one. "Oh crap," Carol says.

We turn around, and there's a smaller group of walkers blocking our escape. "I'll take the big group," I say, as we stand back to back.

"Which one? They're both big, Clary."

"The first group. The one you're facing," I say, for I'm staring at the smaller group.

"You sure?"

"Carol, I'll be fine. I'm a Dixon, remember?"

We switch, and charge the walkers. I had about ten more to kill than Carol, so she finishes a minute or two before me. As I kill the walkers, I remember Tomas's nickname for me right before Rick killed him— Badass McGee.

Carol and I keep running, until we're both tired. My legs burn from all the running; we've probably ran a few miles, going through all the corridors. "Hold on," Carol says, breathing hard.

We stop, and sit on the ground for a few minutes. I look around. "I have no clue where we are."

Carol looks around. "Neither do I."

"I've been through a lot of the prison. Never been in this part."

"We're lost."

"Yes we are."

I look the way we came. "So much for that picnic tonight."

"What picnic?"

I look at her. "With Carl."

She raises her eyebrows.

"His idea, asked me back in the cell block."

"Uh-huh."

I glance down both halls and listen for walkers. I don't hear anything. I don't know if I have it in me to keep going, but I make the decision to. "We need to keep going."

"I can't go any farther," Carol says, her eyes half closed.

The alarms had stopped about an hour or two ago, and the lights had shut off with them. We can see a few feet in front of us, and that's it. I look down the hall, and see a supply closet. "There's a supply closet a few feet away. We'll stop, spend the night, and keep going in the morning."

I look back at Carol. She nods, and gets to her feet. I stand and lead her to the closet. Stopping outside the door, I look at Carol. "I'll go in first. Make sure there aren't any walkers."

"You'll be okay on your own?"

"Trust me, Carol."

She nods, but I freeze. It's almost the same thing I said to Carl. I told him that he could trust that I'd be right behind him, but that wasn't true.

"Clary?" Carol asks, her slender hands on my shoulders.

I look up at her. "Clary? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," I whisper. "I'm fine, I'm fine."

"How about you wait out here and I take this?"

"No, I'll be fine." I slip out of her grasp and open the door. I go in, and there aren't any walkers. I open the door for Carol, and she's sitting on the ground, watching for walkers. "Carol."

She looks at me, and gets up. Carol closes the door behind her. "It's probably a little after nine," Carol says as we sit down, leaning against the walls, "I think we've been gone for about five hours."

Five hours since we were separated. Four hours since T-Dog died, and two hours since the alarms stopped. We've been gone for five hours. I look at Carol, she's almost asleep. "I'll take first watch. You can sleep, Carol."

"No, I can't ask you to do that," she says.

"Well, good. I ain't asking for your requests."

"I can take first watch. You go to sleep, you need it. You've done so much already. Aren't you tired?"

I'm almost ready to fall asleep, but I won't tell her that. "No, I'm fine. I'll wake you up in six hours. Go to sleep."

Carol sighs and closes her eyes. In a few seconds, she's asleep. I watch the door, hoping no walkers come. I notice that there's a working clock in the room. I glance at it, and see that Carol was right about the time. Sitting in the cell, on the look out for walkers, I start to get bored. I softly start to sing. "If I die young, bury me in satin. Lay me down on a bed of roses. Sink me in the river at dawn. Send me away with the words of a love song, uh oh, uh oh.

"Lord make me a rainbow, I'll shine down on my mother. She'll know I'm safe with you when she stands under my colors, oh. And life ain't always what you think it ought to be, no. Ain't even grey, but she buries her baby.

"The sharp knife of a short life, oh well. I've had just enough time. If I die young, bury me in satin. Lay me down on a bed of roses. Sink me in the river at dawn. Send me away with the words of a love song, uh oh, uh oh.

"And I'll be wearing white, when I come into your kingdom. I'm as green as the ring on my little cold finger. I've never known the lovin' of a man, but it sure felt nice when he was holdin' my hand. There's a boy here in town, says he'll love me forever. Who would have thought forever could be severed by the—"

"How'd you learn to sing like that?" Carol asks, so suddenly I stop singing.

I glance at her. "How long were you listening?"

"I couldn't fall asleep, so the entire time." Carol props herself up on her left arm.

"Don't tell anyone," I say after a pause.

"Why?"

"I don't sing for anyone. The only reason I sang at the campfire the other night was because a Beth was singing, too."

"Why don't you sing for people? You have a great voice."

I look down, not saying anything.

"Plus, I'm sure Carl would love it."

I look up, staring at her, my blue eyes wide. "What?"

"Carl, I'm sure he would love to hear you sing."

"He's never heard me sing, excluding the campfire. My own brother's never heard me sing."

"Just do it once. You two have been through everything together. The start of the apocalypse, the camp being overrun, the CDC. Don't forget, Sophia's death."

"Oh, go to sleep, Carol," I say, waving her off. She lays back down and falls asleep. Watching the door, I remember the day of Sophia's death, and the events prior to it. It was about a week after the CDC, and we were stopping because of Dale's R.V. breaking down.

A herd of walkers had been passing by, and we hid under the cars. Two walkers found Sophia and chased her. Rick followed them, killed the walkers, but Sophia had run away. We searched for her, and Carl was shot. On Hershel's farm, Daryl went searching, and almost died. He rolled down a hill, was pierced by his own arrow, attacked by walkers, and to top it all off, Andrea shot him, almost killing him.

Then we found out Hershel had a barn full of walkers, and Sophia was one of them. Shane decided to let the walkers out, and kill all of them. The last one to walk out of the barn was Sophia. Carol ran forward, but Daryl held her back, comforting her as she wept. Carl and I sunk to the ground, our arms around each other. Our best friend had become a walker. The gunshot rang out, and we looked up to see Sophia splaying at Rick's feet, his gun on her. That day was probably one of the few times I've cried in the entire apocalypse, but it hardened Carl and I as well.

I count the hours that pass, and Carol's still asleep after six hours. After seven hours of keeping watch, I'm practically asleep. Carol wakes and looks at me. "What time is it?"

"Ooh, 'round four in the morning," I say after glancing at the clock.

"You were supposed to wake me up an hour ago."

"Figured you could use a little extra sleep."

"It's my turn for watch. Go to sleep."

I don't argue. After all, I can barely keep my eyes open. Using my arm as a pillow, I lay on my side. I'm so tired, I instantly fall asleep.

* * *

The first thing I notice when I wake up is that the door is open. Then I notice Carol's not in the room. Standing up, I reach for my crossbow, then remember I dropped it. I take my knife out and slowly walk out of the supply closet.

I look down one hall, and I don't see anything. I look down the other hall, and see Carol pulling her knife out of a walker's head. "Oh, there you are," I say.

She turns around. "Sorry, I wanted to clear the hall before we started trying to find our way back."

I nod. "We should get going."

Carol and I start off, trying to find our way back. We're weaker than we were yesterday, since we haven't eaten or drank anything. For the first two hours, we only see a few walkers. Then, Carol spots a big group. We look at each other, then start killing the walkers. We finish and keep hurrying down the hall. We round a corner, and I notice this part of the prison is starting to look a little familiar. "Carol! I think I've been here!" I say.

"You have?" Carol asks, glancing at me.

"Or at least close to it. But we're close!"

A snarling from the corner we just rounded startles Carol and I. I turn around and see a fast-moving walker behind us. "Go, Carol!"

We start running, trying to get away from the walker. I turn around and throw my knife, but it misses the walker's head. Instead, my knife impales itself in the walker's neck. "Carol, I hate to say this, but I'm weaponless."

Carol glances behind us at the walker, then to me, and then at the walker. She turns and throws her knife, but it misses its target. The knife sticks out from the walker's neck, the opposite side of where mine is. Up ahead, I can see another storage room. "Carol, I think I found our hiding spot. I really hope there aren't any walkers."


	5. Hounded

Carol and I run inside the storage room, Carol closing the door after us. There aren't any walkers in here, luckily. We're so tired and dehydrated, we fall to the ground and pass out.

Someone's hands are on my shoulders, shaking me awake. "Clary, Clary, wake up! Clary!"

I'm too exhausted to open my eyes. "Dammit Clary, wake up!"

Carol's voice. I open my eyes and see her leaning over me. She lets go of me once she sees that my eyes are open. Carol and I lean on the wall across from each other. "We don't have weapons," Carol says, sitting down.

"I noticed," I say, looking around the room for anything that could be used as a weapon. There's nothing in the storage closet.

"Find anything?"

"Nothing," I say, sitting down across from her.

She closes her icy blue eyes, sighing. We silently agree not to go out of the storage closet, since we don't have any weapons and we're weak. If a walker were to come and open the door right now, we'd be screwed. We're too weak to fight back. Carol and I sit in silence for what seems like a few hours, and it probably is. "You know," Carol says, snapping me awake, "there's probably a Cherokee Rose blooming for both of us."

"Like one bloomed for Sophia," I say, remembering when Daryl gave Carol the Cherokee Rose back on Hershel's farm, while Sophia was missing. Daryl went out searching alone, and cane back with a beautiful white flower. I quote what Daryl said that day: "'The story is that when American soldiers were moving Indians off their land on the Trail of Tears, the Cherokee mothers were grieving and crying so much 'cause they were losing their little ones along the way from exposure and disease and starvation. A lot of them just disappeared. So the elders, they said a prayer; asked for a sign to uplift the mothers' spirits, give them strength and hope. The next day this rose started to grow where the mothers' tears fell. I'm not fool enough to think there's any flowers blooming for my brother. But—'"

"'But I believe this one bloomed for your little girl,'" Carol finishes. We grin at each other, despite the fact that we were talking about Carol's dead daughter and my dead best friend.

We're quiet for a while again. I look down, then back up at Carol. "Daryl doesn't think we're dead, he knows we're just missing."

"Yeah, I know," Carol says. "I know. Go to sleep, I can watch for a while."

I start to protest, but she uses the motherly look she used on Sophia. I shut my mouth and lay down, using my arm as a pillow. As I wake up, I notice the door is open just a crack. Then, I remember it never fully closed. Carol leans against the wall, her eyes closed. "Carol?" I whisper. "You still with me?"

"Huh?" she asks, opening her eyes.

"Never mind, go back to sleep," I say, sitting up. She listens to me, and in a few seconds her breathing is deeper. I decide to start pushing on the door in case any members of our group are out there. I keep this up until Carol wakes up a few hours later. Carol takes over while I rest, but I don't sleep.

A few hours later, I start pushing on the door again, and Carol closes her eyes, resting. Like before, I can't open the door more than an inch or two. Something must be blocking it from opening the whole way. I think about the rest of the group, and wonder what they're doing, especially my brother.

"Carol?" I ask. "Can I ask you something?"

She opens her eyes and looks at me. "Sure, Clary. Fire away."

"When Ed was around, did you have feelings for Daryl?"

"He stood up for me, you know. Back at camp, when my husband would yell at me, try to abuse me, Daryl would tell Ed to leave, to go to hell," Carol says.

"But did you have feelings for him?"

Carol's quiet a moment before answering. "Yes."

I don't say anything, just continue to push on the door. Carol closes her eyes again, and this time she falls asleep for a few hours. When she wakes up, she looks at me. "Clary, you look terrible."

"Thanks for the complement," I sarcastically say. I keep pushing the door, but a little harder.

"Clary, you need some rest. Stop, let me do it."

I continue to push on the door, even though I feel a little dizzy. Carol leans over, her hand on my knee. "Clary, stop."

I do the exact opposite.

"Clary, stop. You look like you're ready to pass out. Stop, I'll do it. I'll wake you up if I hear anything."

I glance at Carol, at the door, and back to Carol. "You promise?"

She nods. "I promise. If I hear anything, anything at all, I'll wake you up."

I stop pushing on the door. I'm out before I even have a chance to lay down.

* * *

"Clary," Carol whispers, shaking my leg.

"What?" I whisper.

"Footsteps. I heard footsteps," Carol whispers. I nod and take over pushing on the door. I listen, and hear the footsteps too. Probably three people, not walkers. It's different than the shuffling walkers make.

"Check it out, man," says a voice. It's Oscar. What is he doing here?

I look at Carol, and she looks like she's thinking the same thing.

"Must have missed it last night," Oscar continues.

"It's probably just one or two of 'em," says another voice. This one belongs to Daryl. _Daryl! _Carol's icy blue eyes are wide.

Someone, probably Daryl, lightly pushes back on the door. "Doesn't look like they got much fight." Daryl pushes the door again. "They ain't going nowhere. We'll take care of it on the way back."

Daryl and Oscar walk away from the door, and my spirits fall. Daryl quietly whistles. "Come on."

One set of footsteps go one way, two the other way. "You know, my mom, she liked her wine," Daryl says. "She liked to smoke in bed, Virginia Slims. I was seventeen, sitting with some kids my age, few years younger than me, in the neighborhood while our little siblings played. Clary, she just turned two. Cutest little thing, let me tell you. Anyway, we could do that with Merle gone. Who knows where he was. They had bikes, I didn't. None of us old enough had drivers licenses.

I'm confused about why Daryl's telling someone about our mom. He continues. "We heard sirens getting louder. They jumped on their bikes, ran after it. A few of 'em put their siblings on their backs, told 'em to hold on. They were hoping to see something worth seeing. I picked Clary up, ran after 'em, but I couldn't keep up.

Daryl voice grows quieter as he walks away, but he's still close enough that I can hear every word. "I ran around the corner and saw my friends looking at Clary and I. Hell, I saw everybody looking at us. Fire trucks everywhere. People from the neighborhood. It was our house they were there for. It was our mom in bed, burnt down to nothing. That was the hard part. Clary, everybody said she was too young to understand, but somehow she did. Maybe it was just how I was reacting. Fifteen years between us, but it's like we know each other better than we know ourselves. Anyway, she was just gone. Erased. Nothing left of her. People said it was better that way." Daryl chuckles. "I don't know. Just made it seem like it wasn't real, ya know?"

Daryl doesn't say anything else. The third person speaks, but I can't make out what they're saying. But I can make out who it is. "Carl," I whisper, but I doubt anyone hears me. I could barely hear myself.

I listen closely, and I can hear a little of what Carl's saying. "It was real."

Carl pauses for a second. "Sorry 'bout your mom."

Daryl says something back, but I can barely hear it. Their footsteps grow louder as they walk past us, toward where Oscar is. A few minutes later I hear Oscar's voice. "Oh, that's what I'm talking about."

"What do you need slippers for?" Daryl asks.

"You know, end of the day, relaxing."

Suddenly, I hear gunshots, and I flinch. A thump follows, and so does Daryl's voice. "All right!"

"Must have been in the cell at the end," Oscar says.

"That's Carol's knife," says Daryl, a few seconds after Oscar speaks.

"Isn't that Clary's knife?" Carl asks. The walker must have been the one chasing Carol and I before we ran into the storage closet.

Daryl's quiet a moment. "You two, head back to the group. Oscar, take your damn slippers with you."

Carl and Oscar walk off, and I hear Daryl sit down in front of the door, leaning against the opposite wall. I keep pushing on the door with the last of my strength, trying to get his attention. A knife makes a clinking sound against the ground. Carol leans on the wall across from me, her icy blue eyes closed. I can barely hear her breathing, but I know she's alive. Before Daryl sat down, every now and then, she'll wake up, whisper my brother's name, and fall asleep again. Now she just has her eyes closed. I kick the door again, and know that I can't keep it up for more than five more minutes. "Carol," I whisper, "I really need you to wake up."

She does, and looks at me, her eyes barely open. I keep pushing the door for a few more minutes. Suddenly, Daryl kicks the door, and I jump back, whimpering in surprise. Daryl paces the corridor, breathing hard. I give the door one last hard push, and stop. I'm too tired to do anything more than sit here. Suddenly, I don't hear Daryl anymore, but what I hear are footsteps. Footsteps going the other way, away from us. Carol looks at me, her eyes sad. I close my eyes and look down, trying not to cry. Daryl walked away from us, unknowingly leaving us alone. He thought we were walkers. A tear rolls down my cheek, and before Carol can say anything, someone flings the door open.

I quickly look up. It takes a minute for my eyes to adjust to the new stream of light. I see a man's familiar silhouette. He holds a knife, Carol's knife, in one hand, and his fists are raised, ready for a fight. My knife is through a belt loop in his dark jeans. His main weapon is strapped across his back.

My blue eyes lift to his familiar face. "Daryl?"


	6. When the Dead Come Knocking

"Clary?" Daryl breathes, dropping his guard. He takes a small step, so he's partially inside the storage closet. "Clary, Carol!"

I struggle to my feet and, weak and dehydrated, stumble. Daryl catches me, hugging me close. He holds me in place, one arm around my waist, his other hand gently stroking my dark hair. I wrap my arms around him, my forehead on his chest, and I feel a tear of joy roll down my cheek. "Clary, Carol, everyone thought you were dead," Daryl whispers.

Pulling back from him, I see a walker appear in the doorway behind Daryl. I grab my knife from Daryl's belt and go around him. I sink the knife into the walker's forehead and pull it out. Still weak, I stumble, and Daryl catches me again. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I say. "Just a little unsteady."

My brother raises his eyebrows. "You sure you should be up and walking?"

"Where's Carl?" I ask, ignoring his question. "Is he okay?"

"He's fine. I sent him back to the cell block with Oscar."

Daryl lets go of me and goes over to Carol. She looks up at him, relief in her eyes. He places his fingers under he chin, lifting her head up, and leans down to lightly kiss the tip of her nose. Carol moves suddenly, and my brother kisses her on the lips. "Finally," I mutter.

I turn around and keep watch for more walkers, but I can still hear them kissing. When they stop a few seconds later, I glance over my shoulder. Carol's slim fingers are laced behind his neck, and Daryl gently cups her face in his hands. He kisses her forehead once and lets go of her. Sliding one arm under Carol's knees and the other around her shoulders, Daryl lifts her up. Carol's slender frame fits almost perfectly in his arms.

He follows me out of the closet, Carol, a small grin on her face, in his arms. Daryl's oblivious to Carol's grin, but he lets her wrap her arms around his neck. I go in front of him I case there are any walkers. Daryl stays to one side, so I can go around him if there are any walkers behind him. We walk back to Cell Block C, not talking, and I think about Carl. Along the way, we don't see many walkers, just about three.

Daryl digs the keys to the cell doors out of his pocket and hands them to me. I go ahead of him and unlock the first door. I hold it open for him while he carries Carol through. I close it behind me, locking it, while Daryl waits for someone to open the second door. He carries Carol in while the person walks into the common room. "Clary?"

I turn around and see Carl. "Carl?" I whisper, and start forward.

"Oh my God, Clary, you're alive," Carl breathes, running to meet me. He wraps his arms around me, and I slide my arms around his neck, my fingers brushing his shaggy dark hair. I pull back as Carl gently cups my face in his hands, and pulls me against him, surprising me. Then, he does something that surprises me even more. He kisses me.

My head spins as I close my eyes and kiss him back. I wind my fingers into his soft hair, and it curls around my fingers. "Well, it's about time," someone blurts from the cell block.

Carl, startled, breaks off the kiss and turns. My hands slide from his hair; one in his arm, the other on his chest. I look over his shoulder, and see Beth standing at the door, her blonde hair tucked up under a white beanie. There's a baby in her arms. I walk over to her, looking at the newborn baby. "Who is this?"

"She doesn't have a name yet," Carl says, standing beside me.

"Carl, you're teaching your sister bad habits a little early," Beth says with a grin.

Carl shakes his head, but grins. "Daryl calls her Little Ass-Kicker, but it's more of a nickname."

I chuckle. "Little Ass-Kicker, it has a good ring to it. That's exactly something that my brother would do."

"Yeah, it kind of is, isn't it?" Beth asks.

I point my finger at her. "And you. What do you mean by 'it's about time?'"

Beth chuckles, glancing from Carl to me with her blue-green eyes. "I've been waiting for you two to kiss, ever since he woke up on the farm."

I look down, but I agree with her a little. I'd been waiting for Carl to kiss me since a little while after we left Hershel's farm. Carl, his face red, holds out his arms for his little sister. "I'll take her for a while. Clary, you go ahead in there, get reunited with everyone."

I nod, take one last glance at Carl and his sister, and go into the cell block. Surprisingly, the first one to hug me as I walk in Cell Block C is Axel. He lets go of me and hands me a bottle of water from a table. I quickly drink it, seeing as I haven't drank anything for about two or three days. Rick gives me a small hug. Carl and Beth walk back into the cell block while Rick walks out, and Beth holds the baby. I walk over to where Carol and Daryl are, and Daryl's trying to get Carol to drink some water. He looks at me. "You want some?"

I hold up my nearly empty water bottle. "Axel already offered."

"Axel, huh?"

I walk into Carol's cell and lean against the wall. "Glenn and Maggie aren't here."

"They're on a run." Daryl glances over his shoulder. "Hey Rick, can you come here for a second?"

Rick walks over, and Daryl gets up, leaving Carol sitting on her bed. Daryl and Rick stand just outside the door. "Poor things must have fought their way into a cell. Passed out, dehydrated," Daryl says.

I slide down the wall, stretching my legs out in front of me. I close my eyes, and I hear other crowd around the doorway and a few come into the room. "Clary? You with me?" Daryl asks.

I open my eyes and see my brother kneeling in front of me. "Yeah, sorry. Just so tired."

Daryl nods and helps me to my feet. Carol, a small grin on her face, gets up and hugs Rick. I stand beside Carl as Beth gives the baby to Carol. They still haven't named her. Carl suggested the names of the female members in the group that died, including Carol and I because he didn't know we were alive. Daryl also suggested one, but it wasn't a real name. Carol and I look around, looking for Lori.

I understand, and I think Carol does too, but she still asks the question. "Where's Lori?"

Beside me, Carl stiffens. I look over at him; his expression hardened, his blue eyes cold. "Oh, no," I whisper.

He looks down, allowing his dark hair to fall in his face. I wrap my arms around him, and he leans into me, his forehead at the base of my neck. "Oh my God, Carl," I whisper. "I'm sorry."

Carl rest his chin on my shoulder. "I am too."

A rattling at the door that leads to the common room startles me. I pull away from Carl and look out at the door. There's a black woman standing there. She looks like she could be in her early thirties, and she has dark brown eyes and hair, in dreadlocks, the same color. The common room was a little dark, and I didn't see her in there.

Rick pushes past us and walks to the door. Daryl, Hershel and I follow him. Rick opens the door, and walks into the common room, the keys jingling on his belt. He walks over to the woman, who holds a towel over her leg where she was shot. "We can tend to that wound for you, give you a little food and water, and then send you on your way. But you're gonna have to tell us how you found us, and why you were carrying formula."

"The supplies were dropped by a young Asian guy, with a pretty girl," she replies.

I glance down. She's talking about Glenn and Maggie. "What happened?" I ask.

"Were they attacked?" Hershel asks.

She glances at Hershel and I. "They were taken."

"Taken? By who?" Rick asks.

"By the same son of a bitch who shot me," she says.

Rick drops down so he's eye level with the girl. "Hey, these are our people. You tell us what happened now!"

Rick reaches forward and grabs her wrist, causing the girl to pull back and stand. Daryl aims his crossbow at her head. "Don't you ever touch me again!" she hisses.

"You better start talking," Daryl says. "Or you're gonna have a much bigger problem than a gunshot wound."

The girl looks at him, her eyes wide. They're not wide in surprise, she's merely observing him, like a cat. "Find 'em yourself."

"Hey, shh, shh, shh. Put it down," Rick whispers, touching the edge of Daryl's crossbow. The girl leans against the wall, and Rick walks in front of Daryl. "You came here for a reason."

The girl pauses, then looks up at our leader. "There's a town. Woodbury. About seventy-five survivors. I think they were taken there."

"A whole town?"

"It's run by this guy, calls himself The Governor. Pretty boy, charming, Jim Jones type."

"He got muscle?" Daryl asks, shifting on his feet.

"Pair of military wannabes. They have armed sentries on every wall."

"You know a way in?" Rick asks.

"The place is secure from walkers, but we could slip our way through."

"How'd you know how to get here?"

"Asian boy mentioned a prison, s—"

"His name's Glenn," I say.

The girl ignores me and continues. "Said which direction it was in, that it was a straight shot."

Rick glances over his shoulder and points to Hershel. "This is Hershel. He's the father of Maggie, the girl that was taken. He'll take care of that wound for you."

"I'm Michonne, by the way," the girl says. Hershel goes over to take care of her wound while the rest of us walk back into the cell block. Rick tells Carl to keep watch over Michonne while Hershel's with her. I follow Daryl and Rick to the back of the cell block. All of us stand around the stairs, the baby in Carol's arms. "Are you even sure we can trust her?" Oscar asks.

"This is Maggie and Glenn. Why are we even debating?" Beth says.

"We ain't. I'll go after them," I say, stepping forward. Daryl glances at me, surprised. I shift my shoulder so my crossbow doesn't slide off. Daryl gave it back to me after talking to Michonne. They found it, along with T-Dog's devoured body.

"Clary goes, I go," Daryl finally says.

"Well, this place sounds pretty secure. You two can't go alone," Rick says.

"I'll go," Beth volunteers.

Axel steps forward. "Me too."

We look at each other. "I'm in," Oscar says.

Rick sighs, then makes his decision. Oscar, Daryl, Michonne, Rick and I will go. Rick goes out to tell Michonne. We go outside and start to load Rick's green Hyundai. Daryl puts a bag in the trunk. "I got the flash bangs, I got the tear gas. You never know what you're gonna need."

Oscar puts two assault rifles in the trunk, agreeing, and then walks away. Carl and I carry bags over while Daryl puts his sleeveless vest on that has angel wings on the back. He wears it almost all the time. The three of us put our bags in the trunk. "Hey, Carl," Daryl says. "Don't you worry 'bout your old man. I'm gonna keep my eye on him."

Daryl pats Carl on the back once and the thee of us walk away. Beth and I open the first gate, and Michonne follows us. "Wasn't this place overrun?" Michonne asks.

"It was," Beth says.

"Hey, Clary!" Daryl calls, motioning me to come over to him. I do, leaving Beth and Michonne. He leads me off to the side. "What the hell was that?" Daryl asks harshly.

"What the hell was what?" I ask, looking at him.

"Running off like that!"

"What was I supposed to do?"

"I told you to get your ass out of there! You ran off with Carol and T-Dog!" Daryl cries, his voice rising until he's yelling.

"I couldn't leave Carol!" I yell back. "T-Dog got bit! I wasn't gonna let them—"

"We thought you were dead! Hell, I—" Daryl's voice cracks and he lowers his voice to a whisper. "I thought you were dead."

I look down. Daryl puts his hands on the side of my face, making me look at him. He leans down so he's eye level. "Don't do that to me again, Clary. Please, don't do it again, ever. I–I couldn't bear it if... If you disappeared again, and you didn't come back. I lost you once, I'm not going to lose you again."

I wrap my arms around his neck, hugging my big brother. "I promise," I whisper.

"Good, you better mean it," Daryl says, and claps my shoulder, pulling away. "We should get going."

Daryl walks towards the Hyundai, and I follow a second later, still looking down. I go towards Carl, while Daryl walks over to Carol, who holds the baby. I walk over to Carl, who stands off to the side. "Is everything okay between you and Daryl?" Carl asks.

"Yeah, why?" I say.

"I could hear all of it. I was a little worried you were gonna wake Judith."

"She has a name now?"

"Yeah. You sure everything's okay?"

"It's all good. Just a family spat."

Carl grins, and kisses my forehead when no one's looking. "Get going, Dixon. You have work to do."

I grin and nod, and walk off with the others. We climb in the Hyundai, Rick behind the wheel. We drive off, Axel opening the second gate for us. We keep going until Michonne tells Rick to stop the car. We get out, and Michonne puts her sword, a katana, on her back. "They have patrols. We're better off on foot."

"How far?" Rick asks, looking up. "Night's coming."

"It's a mile, maybe two."

I hear a walker hissing behind us. I turn around, and see one a few yards away. Michonne starts to walk around me. I tap her shoulder, and she turns, seeing the walker. "Shouldn't we kill it?" I ask.

"Nah, it shouldn't bother us," replies the katana-wielding woman. We start off in the woods, heading towards Woodbury. Daryl walks beside me. "You sure you want to come?"

"Too late now," I reply with a grin. Oscar and Michonne lead the way, I follow in the middle, and Daryl and Rick have the rear. I can hear them talking behind me. "You know, what you did for my baby, while I was... working things out, thank you," Rick says.

"It's what we do," Daryl replies. I hear a walker growling a second before Daryl hears it. "Rick," I whisper.

"Down," our leader hisses. We drop into a crouch, Daryl and I holding our crossbows up. Walkers come out of the woods. I count about fifteen coming from ahead of us. "Get in formation," Rick says, getting up, "no gunfire."

He sinks his machete into a walkers head. Daryl shoots another walker, and I swing my crossbow on my back, using my long knife. "Oscar," Rick says.

Oscar bashes a walker's head in with his hammer. He walks backwards to meet us, and so does Michonne. "There's too many of them," Daryl observes.

I turn around and stab a walker. More are coming from behind. I turn back around. Rick points a way out with his machete. "This way."

We run after him, walkers chasing us. Rick points at cabin. "Through there! Come on!"

We run inside. Rick runs in, then Daryl, Oscar, then I run in, and Michonne follows me. "Get the door," I hiss.

Michonne shuts it behind her, making a good amount of noise. "Keep it down, keep it down," Rick quietly scolds.

Daryl covers his nose. "The smell, it's loud."

I notice it, too. It smells like a dead animal, a really dead animal. I stay with Michonne at the door while the others walk forward. "What the hell is that?" Oscar asks.

"It's gotta be a fox, or what's left of one," Daryl replies. They walk closer. Rick shines his flashlight on a dead dog. "I guess Lassie went home," Daryl says, turning away from the smell.

Michonne and I take a few steps forward, just as pounding at the door starts. We turn around and see walkers. We can see through the boards covering the windows. "Ah!" Rick suddenly cries.

I whip around and see a guy sitting in a bed, a dark beanie on his head. Daryl has his crossbow pointed at him, and I quickly do the same. Michonne's hand rests on the handle of her katana, ready to use it of she needs too. Oscar holds his hammer, but Rick is the only one not aiming anything at the hermit.

"Ah! Who are you?" cries the hermit.

"We don't mean any harm," Rick says.

The hermit springs to his feet, a rifle in his hands, aiming it at Rick. "Get outta my house!"

"Okay, okay, okay. We will, but we can't right now."

"Now!"

"Shut him up," Michonne hisses. Walkers are pounding on the door harder.

"Get out! Right now!"

"There are walkers outside," Rick hisses.

"You know, the dead," I say.

The hermit glances at all of us with his icy blue eyes. "I'll call the cops!"

"I am a cop," Rick hisses, his blue eyes hard. "Now, I need you to lower the gun." Rick sets his machete and gun on the ground. "Don't do anything rash. Everything's fine, let's just take this nice and slow, okay?"

The hermit looks at us. "Hey, look at me," Rick says.

The hermit listens, then cocks his rifle, the end of the barrel just a few inches from Rick's forehead. "Show me your badge!"

"All right," Rick says, completely calm. "It's in my pocket. It's in my pocket. Now, I'm just gonna reach down, nice and slow."

Rick reaches down with his left hand, then, with his right, he shoves the rifle away from him, and the hermit shoots at Daryl. My brother spins away as the gun blasts a hole in the door behind him. Rick restrains the hermit. "Let go!" says the hermit, "Let go of me!"

The hermit threatens Rick, but he keeps his hold. Somehow, the hermit breaks free and runs for the door. "Don't open that door!" Rick cries.

Michonne unsheathe her katana as the hermit runs past. She spins and stabs him. She pulls her sword out of his back as the hermit falls to the ground, dead. We all look at her, and Daryl goes to check the door. I can still hear the walkers outside. My brother turns around, looking at us. "Remember the Alamo?"

We understand, and Rick motions Daryl over. "Help me with the door."

"You've gotta be kidding," Oscar says, shaking his head.

"He's dead. Check the back," I say. Daryl and Rick lift the hermit's body up, while I wait to open the door. Oscar hurries to the back and peeks out of the door. "It's clear," he reports.

Rick nods. I open the door and they give the hermit to the walkers. I push the door shut, and Daryl locks it. We run out the back door, around the house, and around the walkers. They're distracted by feeding on the hermit. Michonne, Rick, Daryl, Oscar and I keep moving. It's nighttime by the time we reach Woodbury. The five of us hide behind a car, observing the guards. We watch, waiting for the best time to sneak in and rescue Glenn and Maggie.


	7. Made to Suffer

Rick tells us to go into Woodbury without so many weapons. I drop my crossbow on the ground beside me, and take out a handgun I picked up before we left. I was the last one to hide, so I'm the farthest away from the others. A hand slides over my mouth, and the person drags me backwards, into Woodbury. The hand muffles my cries, but a few are escaping. "Shut the hell up!" hisses a male voice in my ear.

"Where's Clary?" Daryl asks, but his voice is faint and from away. I'm quiet as soon as I hear my captor's voice. It's-no, it can't be. It's my brother Merle. I look up and see him staring down at me with his blue eyes. "Merle?" I whisper, but, once again, it's muffled.

"Can I trust you not to scream?" Merle asks. I nod, but he gags me anyways. Merle pulls me to my feet, and marches me into a warehouse. He leads me into a room that looks like an abandoned attic, and throws me into a chair. After he disarms me, Merle ties my hands to the arms of the chair, and removes the gag. I glare daggers at him.

He starts to question me, raising his voice each time I refuse to answer. When he's yelling, he comes over to me, and firmly holds my chin with his left hand. "Tell me where they are," Merle hisses in my face.

"Never," I hiss, and head butt him. My oldest brother stumbles backwards.

"That's it, Clary! Now I'm really pissed," he hisses. He slaps me before marching out of the room. I look around, trying to see if there's anything I can use to escape, or as a weapon. The door opens and I look up. Merle leads a walker in, a clip attached to a pole around the walker's neck. "Are you crazy?" I cry.

"You know, you'll make a big snack for this fella. But, you know what they say. He'll be hungry again in an hour," Merle says.

Merle walks backwards until he's standing in the doorway and the walker's in the room with me. He releases the walker, then closes the door behind him. The walker runs towards me, his teeth snapping. I don't know what I'm doing, my instincts take over. I kick the walker off, and stand up as well as I can with a chair on me. I back up against the wall, trying to break the chair. I keep kicking the walker away.

I can't break the chair, so I try for something else. I pull a box spring out and hide behind it. The box spring keeps the walker away while I try to break the chair. It still won't break, and the walker is getting close to scratching me. I try to kick it away, but it doesn't get very far. I start to realize that I might die. With a grunt, I kick the box spring and walker away. I go to a different wall, and try to break the chair. The walker keeps trying to bite me. _Hmm, I must smell pretty good,_ I think, _This walker sure is persistent._

I kick the walker again, for the twelfth time, and the chair breaks. A piece of the chair arm is attached to my arm, and the walker runs to me again. This time, I stab the walker in the head. It drops, and I pick a piece of sharp splintered wood from the chair. I drive it into the walker's forehead, just to make sure it's dead. I step around the walker, then collapse in the middle of the floor, exhausted. I'm still weak from when I was missing with Carol.

I hug my knees to my chest, shaking. The door opens, and Merle walks in. He walks over to me and pulls me to my feet. He glares down at me. "Where is the camp?"

"I'll never tell you," I hiss.

"You want me to bring another biter in?"

I catch my breath, and Merle chuckles. "Ah-ha. Maybe I should bring another biter in."

"You wouldn't," I whisper.

"Tell me where the camp is, and I won't."

"I ain't telling you where the camp is."

Merle shoves me to the ground and marches to the door. He opens it, leans out, and whistles. "Bring another one in."

"No! It's at the prison!"

"The one near Nunez?" Merle asks, glancing back in at me.

"That's the one."

Merle looks back out into the hall. "Never mind. We don't need the biter."

He turns around, and closes the door. He looks down at me. "That place is overrun."

"We took it."

"How many are you."

"Including me?"

"Yeah."

I pause, counting how many people we have. "Eleven."

Michonne isn't a part of our group yet, and Judith is too young to do anything. With them, we would have thirteen. Merle nods, then walks out, closing the door behind him. I hug my knees to my chest. The door opens again and, this time, a man around forty walks in. He has chestnut brown hair that's graying and blue eyes. He has a charming, pretty boy type vibe around him. Just like what Michonne said about The Governor. This must be him.

The Governor kneels in front of me, holding out his hand. "I'm very sorry about what Merle did. He has a very short temper."

"I've known that all my life," I reply. I decide to play along, because if I do, then he might take me to Glenn or Maggie, or both.

"Sister?"

"Yes."

"I'm The Governor."

"That's it?" I ask. "Just 'The Governor?'"

"I never tell anyone my real name."

"Never say never."

"I have a friend that said the same thing."

"Two of my friends are missing. Do you know where they are?" I ask as sweetly as possible.

The Governor hesitates. He knows, but doesn't want to tell me. "My name's Philip."

"Clary, and I thought you never told people your name?"

"Never say never," he replies. "Now, come on. You look exhausted, let's get you something to drink, some food, maybe a place to sleep?"

The Governor reaches for my hand. I take his, but twist it. He cries out and pulls away. I scramble to my feet and run for the door, but a hand grabs my ankle. I fall to the ground, and see that the hand belongs to The Governor. He gets to his feet, then pulls me to mine, and starts towards the door.

The Governor whistles, and a guy opens the door. He shoves me towards the guy. "Martinez, take her to the others," he says.

The guy, Martinez, pushes me ahead of him, taking me to another part of the warehouse. He opens a door and shoves me inside, harder than The Governor did. I fall to the ground, and hear footsteps coming over. Familiar hands help me to my feet, and I look up to see a bloodied, battered, and bruised Glenn. "Glenn," I whisper, and throw my arms around him.

"Clary, what happened?" Glenn asks after sitting back down next to Maggie. Maggie wears Glenn's shirt, leaving the young Korean shirtless.

"I was waiting for orders from Rick, then the next thing I know, Merle's kidnapping me. He threw a walker at me once we were back here," I answer, shaking from my experience with the walker.

I look down, letting my dark hair form a curtain around my face, and Glenn puts his arm around my shoulders. I lean into him, sniffling and fighting off tears. He rests his chin on the top of my head. "Hey, hey, it's okay, it's okay. Your brother threw one at me, too."

"He's not my brother. Daryl's my brother, not Merle. Brothers are people that are at here for you, no matter what. Merle may be my biological brother, but he's not a real brother. I don't know who Merle is anymore. He used to be my brother."

Glenn gets to his feet and walks over to the dead walker—the one that Merle threw at him. Maggie and I watch as he pulls off its arm, then snaps it in half. He pulls out two bones. Maggie gets up and goes over, and he hands her one of the bones. "Clary, you want one?" Glenn asks.

I hold up my finger, the universal sign for "one minute." I turn and dig my Swiss Army knife out. I turn back around and hold it up. "How'd you keep that?" Glenn asks, staring at the knife.

"I hid it where nobody would check," I reply, walking over to them.

"Meaning?"

"Well, let's just say that some women keep money there, but I keep a Swiss Army knife there."

Maggie nods her approval, and gives me a high five. "Nice."

"Thank you," I say. The door opens, and we ambush the Woodbury survivors. There's two; a guy and Merle. Maggie attacks the guy, and Glenn and I attack Merle. In a second, Merle throws Glenn to the ground, his knife at the neck of the young Korean man. Maggie takes a gun from the dead man, and I pull the longest blade out from my Swiss Army knife. Maggie aims the gun at Merle's head, while I hold my small knife at his throat. "Let him go!" Maggie yells.

"You gonna shoot me, sweetheart?" Merle asks in reply.

"I'd suggest shutting up, considering the fact that you have weapons armed by two _very pissed off women_ at your head," I hiss, lightly pushing the blade into my brother's neck, just enough so he can feel the sharpness of it.

Merle removes his knife from Glenn's neck. "Okay."

About three men walk through the door, their guns aimed at Maggie and I. The guy named Martinez leads them. Merle gets to his feet, and lunges for Maggie's gun. "Give me that gun!"

He grabs it from her, and I lunge for my brother. He doesn't see me and I stab his arm. Merle cries out in pain and shoves me to the ground. I land on top of Glenn, and he grunts when my elbow hits his bare chest. "Sorry," I mutter.

Merle pulls the Swiss Army knife out of his arm and throws it to the ground, the bloodied blade landing next to me. I make a quick grab for it, but my brother grabs it before I get a chance to. I lay back down next to Glenn in defeat; I'm weaponless when I need a weapon. "Get up!" Merle yells at Glenn and I.

Glenn rolls on his side, groaning. I get to my feet and help Glenn up. Merle's men take Maggie, Glenn and I to the room where Glenn and I were held. They make us get to our knees, in an execution-style line. Maggie fights tears, Glenn glances from his girlfriend to I, then back again, and I shake in fear. I had been so focused on not being killed by walkers, I didn't even stop to think about being killed by another human, especially my oldest brother. I shake at the thought.

"Glad we could catch up," Merle says, pacing the floor in front of us.

Glenn takes Maggie's hand, looking at her. "Look here," he whispers, "Just keep looking at me."

He takes my hand, looking at me, and says the same thing. Glenn looks back at Maggie. "I love you," she whispers as one of Merle's men puts a bag over her head.

Glenn looks at me, and squeezes my hand. "We'll be okay," he whispers, and they put a bag over his head.

I close my eyes as I feel a bag being put over my head, and they tie our hands together with duck tape. Merle's hand roughly grabs my arm, yanking me to my feet. "On your feet, move. Let's go, come on," says one of the men.

They push us out of the room, each one with a hand on our backs. I hear something hit the ground right in front of me, and then an explosion, followed by a burst of light. A flash bang from the prison. Another object hits the ground in front of me, and everyone coughs as smoke rises. The pressure from Merle's hand on my back disappears, and I pull the bag off my head. I can't see because of the smoke, and I trip. I try to throw my hands out to stop my fall, but they're bound together. I hit the ground, and feel someone's hand grab my arm, pulling me to my feet. I kick at them, but stop when I hear the familiar gruff voice. "Clary, Clary. It's me," Daryl whispers in my ear. "It's okay, we're here. Thank God, you're okay."

Daryl pulls me along, and we run out of the warehouse with Glenn, Maggie, Rick, Oscar and Michonne. My recent captors fire at us, but the bullets don't come anywhere near hitting us. Rick cuts the tape off of our wrists, and we run out into the street, Rick and I supporting Glenn, who's barely able to walk. We run to the next block. "Inside, quick," Rick hisses.

People from the town are patrolling the streets. We run inside an empty house, Daryl holding an assault rifle up. Glenn falls to the ground as soon as we enter. Glenn leans against a cabinet, breathing hard. Maggie and I kneel next to him. I look up and see Daryl walking around, trying to find an exit. "Ain't no way out back here," he reports.

"Rick, how did you find us?" I ask.

Our leader kneels in front of Glenn. "How bad are you hurt?"

"I'll be alright," Glenn replies.

"Where's that woman?" Maggie asks.

"Michonne, _dammit_. She was right behind us," says Rick. He pulls back a small curtain and looks out into the street.

"Maybe she was spotted," Oscar offers.

"Want me to go look for her?" Daryl asks.

"No," Rick replies. "We gotta get them out of here. Michonne's on her own."

Maggie finds a jacket and helps Glenn put it on. "Daryl," he says, "this was Merle."

Daryl becomes frozen like a block of ice, there looks at him. "What?" he breathes.

"It was. He did this."

"Clary." Daryl motions for me to get up and come over. I do.

"You saw him?" Rick asks.

"Face to face," replies Glenn. "Threw a walker at me."

"Same here, walker and everything. He was gonna execute us," I whisper. Daryl wraps his arm around my shoulders.

"S-So my brother's this governor?" Daryl asks.

"No, it's somebody else," Maggie says. "Your brother's his lieutenant or something."

"His right-hand man," I say, and glance down. _Bad joke_, I think, but smile inwardly. Merle's missing his right hand.

Daryl shifts on his feet. "Does he know I'm still with you?"

"If he didn't when he say Clary, he does now. Rick, I'm sorry," Glenn says. "We told him where the prisons was."

"We couldn't hold out," I say, still shaking. "I'm sorry, Rick."

"Don't. No need to apologize," Rick replies, kneeling in front of Glenn again. He pats Glenn's knee then goes to a second window, looking out again.

"They're gonna be looking for us," I say as I realize it, and lean into Daryl.

"We have to get back. Glenn, can you walk? We got a car a few miles out."

"I'm good," Glenn replies.

"All right." Rick and Maggie help Glenn to his feet.

Daryl steps forward. "Hey, if Merle's around, I need to see him."

"Daryl, don't," I whisper, my voice unsteady.

Rick leans forward. "Not now, we're in hostile territory."

"He's my brother," Daryl says. "I ain't—"

"Look what he did! Look, we gotta..." Rick lowers his voice. "We gotta get out of here now."

"Maybe I can talk to him. Maybe I can work something out."

"Daryl," I whisper, fighting tears I'm so scared, "Daryl, please. Don't."

"No, no, no. You're not thinking straight. Look, not matter what they say, they're hurt," Rick says. "Glenn can barely walk. Look at Clary. She's scared to death. Merle, your brother, did that to Clary, your sister. How are we gonna make it out if we get overrun by walkers and this governor catches up to us? I _need_ you. Are you with me?"

Daryl looks at me, seeing the fear in my blue eyes. "Yeah."

Daryl hands me an assault rifle, like the one Rick's carrying. My brother gets a smoke grenade ready, and Rick waits to open the door. "On three. Stay tight. One, two, three."

Rick opens the door and Daryl throws the smoke grenade out. As soon as it hits the ground, it starts emitting smoke. Daryl rolls another one out, and some men spot the smoke. "Let's go," Rick says, and we follow him onto the street.

A guard looks at us. "There they are!"

Rick, Daryl and I fire at the guards, and they drop. More men come, and shoot at us as we cross the street. "Go! Get cover!" Rick yells at us.

We duck into an alley. "How many?" Rick asks.

"Don't know. I couldn't see," Oscar replies.

"Doesn't matter. There's gonna be more of 'em," Daryl says. "We need to move."

"Any grenades left?" Rick asks.

"Uh-huh."

"Get 'em ready. We gotta gun to the wall."

Maggie peeks around the corner and fires two shots, then ducks back into the alley. I do the same, and Daryl hands Glenn a gun. "You guys go ahead," Daryl says. "I'm gonna lay down some cover fire."

"No, Daryl, don't," I say. "We have to stick together."

"Too hairy."

"Daryl, don't."

He kisses my forehead. "I'll be right behind you, Clary."

Maggie turns around, fires, and ducks in the alley. Daryl pulls the pin on another smoke grenade. "Ready?"

He throws it without waiting for an answer. We go across the street, shooting. Everyone's yelling, townspeople and our group. Rick and Daryl stay behind, firing at Woodbury guards. We make it to one section in the wall, a bus. Oscar helps Glenn up onto the roof of the bus, then starts to get up himself. A bullet enters Oscar's chest, and he falls off the bus. "No!" Glenn cries.

I kneel next to Oscar, and search for a pulse. There is none. Of course there is none, the bullet went into his heart. Maggie kneels next to me. "Rick!" she screams, and also checks for a pulse. "Rick!"

"Maggie! Clary!" Glenn cries.

"Daryl!" I yell.

"Maggie, Clary! Come on!" Glenn cries. Maggie and I stand up, and I put a bullet into Oscar's forehead to keep him from becoming a walker. Rick runs over, and Maggie and him climb up the bus. "_Daryl_!" I yell.

"Go!" he yells.

"Clary! We need to go, now!" Rick says. I turn and climb up the bus. We make it over the wall, and run back to where I was taken. We stay a little ways away from the cars. "Get down," Rick hisses.

Maggie and Glenn listen to him, and I sneak up and get my crossbow. I hurry back to them, and see that Michonne is with us. The only person that's not back yet is Daryl. "Where are the rest of your people?" Michonne asks.

"They got Oscar," Glenn says.

"Daryl is missing," says Maggie.

"Did you see him?" I ask.

"If anything happens to him—" Rick starts to say, but is cut off by Michonne.

"I brought you here to save them."

"Thanks for the help."

"You'll need help to get them back to the prison. Or, to go back in there for Daryl. Either way, you need me."

Rick looks at Maggie. "You want to come?"

She nods. I step forward. "Hold up, I'm coming."

Rick turns to me. "No, you're not."

"Yes I am. He's my brother."

"Clary, you're not coming. I know it's your brother, I understand. But you're not coming. Besides, I'm already taking Maggie. I don't want to risk anyone else."

"Daryl lost me once. I'm not going to lose Daryl."

"Clary Dixon, you're not coming."

"I'm coming with you, whether you like it or not."

"Clary," Glenn says. He comes over and takes me lightly by the arm, leading me off to the side.

"What?" I hiss, when he stops walking. Glenn studies me with his dark eyes. He puts his hand on his forehead, pushing back his dark black hair, looking up, then back to me.

"Clary, I hate to be the one to say this–I really hate to be the one saying it. But The Governor, he-he might—" Glenn starts to say, but I cut him off.

"No, Glenn, don't. Please don't. Please," I say, starting to sink to my knees.

"—He might kill Daryl."

I sink to the ground, looking away from Glenn. I hug my knees to my chest, my forehead resting on them.

"Clary," Glenn whispers, right in front of me. I keep my head down.

"Clary."

I ignore him.

"_Clary_."

This time I look up at Glenn. He's kneeling in front of me, his dark eyes silently apologizing for saying that my only family might die. His Korean features are sharp in the light from his flashlight, despite his face being bloody and bruised. Glenn lightly touches my shoulders. "Clary, you know your brother. He's gonna do whatever he has to do to get back to you. You know that. Daryl Dixon is strong, he's tough. Hell, he's a badass. There is no way The Governor will stop him."

I close my eyes, and sense Glenn stand up. "Clary," he says.

I look up at him; he holds his hand out, waiting for me to take it. "Come on, Clary."

I take his hand; it's smooth, unlike Daryl's rough, calloused hands. He pulls me up and hugs me. "Don't go. Please, for Carl, for Beth, for me. You're like a little sister to me. Don't go, for Carl. Don't even try to deny it, we all know about that kiss. Just don't go, Clarissa."

I pull back and study him with my bright blue eyes. "You're letting Maggie go."

That's all I say. I turn around and walk back to Rick before I can see his expression. I take a gun and sling the strap over my shoulder. "I'm going, Rick. I'm a good shot. I can do this. What happens if one of you are hurt and the other has to help the injured one back? Who's going to cover you?"

Rick rubs his forehead, something he does before agreeing to something he doesn't want to agree to. "Alright. You can come."


	8. The Suicide King

I crouch and wait for my cue. From my hiding spot, I can see Daryl and Merle. I remember that day when Rick and T-Dog accidentally left Merle on the roof of the building in Atlanta. I had just turned fourteen a few months before, it was around a year ago. I remember Daryl's face when he told me that they didn't find our brother.

"Kill them! Kill them!" The cheering of the crowd snaps me back to reality. Daryl glances around, nervously. The crowd continues to chant. Even young children and elderly people are blood thirsty. A man with gauze over his right eye stands in the front. The Governor.

Andrea, a friend I haven't seen since the last night on Hershel's farm, tries to fight her way forward. We thought she was dead, that the walkers that had overrun Hershel's farm got her. Her blonde hair falls in her face as one of The Governor's guards holds her back. "Let him go, he's my friend!" Andrea cries, her green eyes hard.

"It's not up to me anymore," The Governor says. "The people have spoken."

Andrea's shocked. The Governor turns to my brothers, and addresses Merle. "I asked you where your loyalties lie. You said here. Well, prove it. Prove it to us all. Brother against brother. Winner is free."

The crowd cheers their approval. The Governor continues, his voice rising with each word. "A fight, to the death!"

The crowd cheers. Andrea stares at The Governor. "Please, don't do this. Don't do this."

Feeling a hand on my back, I glance over my shoulder and see Rick. I turn back to the arena and listen as the crowd cheers for Merle. Daryl looks at our brother, almost desperate. He looks around, and glances at where I'm hiding. Daryl stares at where I'm hiding, and I'm sure he can see me. He acts like he doesn't. Though his normally hard green eyes are pleading.

My oldest brother looks around the crowd, his blue eyes looking at everyone. Light reflects off of his graying hair, despite the fact that he's nine years older than Daryl. "Y'all know me. I'm gonna do, whatever I got to do to prove—"

Merle spins around and punches Daryl. The force of the blow knocks him to the ground.

"That my loyalty is to this town!" Merle yells, and kicks Daryl's chest. Daryl rolls on his back, coughing. Merle continues to beat my closest brother, so hard I can barely stand it. Then I see the walkers come in.

Four men walk into the arena behind walkers, holding them in a pole-like structure with a clip for their neck at the end. Daryl scrambles to his feet and tries to land a blow, but fails. Merle just knocks him right back down. Then, Daryl locks his hands around Merle's neck, asking him something. Merle says something back, and realization covers Daryl's face.

Merle pulls Daryl to his feet, and they stand back to back. Using the metal sleeve for his missing hand, Merle punches a walker. Andrea yells, "Stop this!"

My brothers continue to beat the walkers. I see Maggie fire into the crowd, and follow her example. People start screaming, and a human girl drops to the ground. Rick throws a gas grenade into the crowd, and the three of us fire into the arena, not aiming for anything in particular. "Come on little brother!" Merle yells, and beats a walker's head in.

Andrea yells for Daryl. I roll my eyes and we continue shooting. "Come on Merle!" Daryl yells.

They run towards us. From behind, Daryl hits the guy holding his crossbow and takes his weapon back. "Daryl!" I cry, "C'mon, let's go!"

They follow us while The Governor walks aimlessly in the fog. As we run out of the arena, I can still hear gunfire from the Woodbury survivors. "Come on! They're all at the arena," Merle says, "This way!"

"Whoa whoa. You're not going anywhere with us," Rick cries.

"You really wanna do this now?" Merle cries. He bangs on the fence and tries to open part of it.

"Come on, man," Daryl says. Merle gets the fence open. "Clary, come on! You too Rick! We gotta go!"

We follow Merle through the panel in the fence. He's beating a walker with his metal sleeve, but he's not getting anywhere. "Little help would be nice!" Merle cries.

Daryl shoots a walker, and so does Maggie. "C'mon! We ain't got time for this!" Merle cries.

"Let's go," Daryl says. We run through the woods without encountering any walkers, surprisingly. The sun's up by the time we make it back to Glenn and Michonne. They run into the woods, and upon seeing Merle, they start yelling. Rick yells back at them, telling Michonne to put her sword, her katana, down.

"Hey hey! Shut the hell up!" I yell, surprising everyone so much they shut up. I gesture at Daryl, who was trying to say something.

"He helped us get out of there," he says.

"Yeah, right after he beat the crap out of you," Rick says harshly.

"Eh, we both took our licks," Merle says.

"Jackass," Daryl says, glancing at Merle.

"Hey, shut up."

"Enough, Merle!" I yell, glancing at him. Michonne lifts her katana again, and the arguing starts again.

Glenn has his gun in Daryl's face. "Hey, get that thing outta my face!" Daryl cries.

Merle chuckles. "Man, it looks like you've gone native, brother."

"No more than you hanging out with that psycho back there!" I cry, turning to my oldest brother.

"Oh, yeah, man. He is a charmer, I'll tell ya that." Merle looks at Michonne. "Your girlfriend Andrea's getting real cozy with him."

Glenn steps forward. "Andrea's in Woodbury?"

"Right next to The Governor. Saw it myself," I say.

"Do you know Andrea?" Rick asks. Michonne doesn't answer, so Merle answers for her. "Yep, she does. Her and blondie were in the forest all winter. My Nubian Queen here had two pet walkers. No arms, no jaws, using 'em to carry her stuff. Kept 'em in chains."

Merle starts to go on one of his rants, while we yell at him to shut up. He doesn't, and Rick knocks him out. I look at the sheriff. "Thanks, I was getting ready to do that myself."

We walk onto the road, out of the woods. Daryl, Rick, Glenn, and Maggie start arguing about whether or not Merle should come back to the prison with us. I jump in every now and again, voicing my opinion. "Merle... Merle's blood," Daryl says.

"No, Merle is your blood, and Clary's blood. My blood, my family is standing right here and waiting for us back at the prison," Glenn says.

"And both of you are part of that family. But he's not. He's not," Rick says. Merle stands up and groans. He rubs the spot where Rick knocked him out.

Daryl shakes his head. "Man, y'all don't know."

"Fine," I say, "We'll fend for ourselves."

"Clary, Daryl, that's not what I was saying," Glenn says.

"No him, no us," Daryl says.

"Daryl, Clary, y'all don't have to do that," Maggie says, tucking a piece of short chestnut brown hair behind her ear.

My brother shifts uncomfortably. "It was always the three of us before."

"Don't," Maggie says, her jade green eyes staring at us.

"You're serious?" Glenn says. "You're just gonna leave like that?"

"You'd do the same thing," I say.

"What are we supposed to tell Carol? Tell Carl? He already lost Sophia, then—sorry Rick—Lori, and now his best friend?"

"They'll understand," Daryl says. He starts to walk away from the group, and I follow him. Rick follows us.

"Hey. Hey. There's gotta be another way," Rick says.

We stop walking. Daryl matches Rick's stare. "Don't ask me to leave him. Already did that once."

"We started something last night. You realize that?" Rick asks.

"No him, no us. That's all we can say," I say. Rick starts to walk away, when I remember something I want to give to Carl. "Rick, wait!"

He stops walking. Daryl stares at me. I run to Rick, digging it out of my pocket. It's a small plaque, but Carl would know who is on it. I hand it to Rick. "Give it to Carl."

"Where'd you get it?" Rick asks.

"Carl told me his favorite comic series was Invincible. I found this at a store once, when I went on a run with Glenn. I thought of him when I saw it. It's the main character."

"I'll give it to him."

I turn and walk back to Daryl. "What was that about?" he asks.

"Nothing," I say.

We turn to walk away. "Take care of Little Ass-Kicker, Rick! Take care of Carl!" Daryl calls.

Rick nods. Daryl and I walk into the woods to Merle. "That's right," Merle says. "Dixons stick together."

Merle throws his arm around Daryl's shoulders while I wrap mine around his waist, seeing as I'm shorter than them. We walk off, and I can hear the sound of Rick's light green Hyundai driving away.


	9. Home

Daryl, Merle, and I stand waiting for something to come. "There ain't nothing out here but Mosquitos and ants," Daryl says.

I grin at that, but Merle doesn't. "Patience, little brother. Sooner or later, a squirrel's bound to scurry 'cross your path."

"Even so, that ain't much food. I mean, one squirrel for three people? And you two eat like pigs," I say.

"Eh, get used to it, little sis," Merle says. "And hey, it's better than nothin'."

"We'd have better luck goin' to one of those houses we passed off the turnpike," Daryl says.

"Is that what your new friends taught ya?"

"Why don't we go look for a stream and try to catch some fish?"

"I think you're just trying to lead me back to the road. Get me over to that prison."

"They got shelter. Food. Might not be a bad idea."

"Oh is that so? Well, let me tell you something 'bout those—"

"Daryl's right," I say, interrupting my oldest brother. He takes a step towards me and I involuntarily flinch. Daryl, who's standing next to me, notices and slides his arm around my shoulders. We decide to drop the subject, but Daryl keeps his arm around me.

"Let's go hook some fish," Merle says. We start walking. After a while, we start to hear water.

"Smells to me like the Sawhatchee Creek," Merle says.

"We didn't go west enough," Daryl says.

"Yeah," I say, "There's a river down there it's gotta be the Yellow Jacket."

"What's wrong with y'all? We ain't never come close to the Yellow Jacket," Merle says. My brothers, as usual, start arguing about it. Daryl suddenly stops talking when we hear a distant sound.

We look at each other. It's a baby crying, reminding us of Judith. "You hear that too?" I ask Daryl.

He nods. "It's a baby."

"Oh come on," Merle says. He says something else, but I don't catch it because Daryl and I are already running towards the sound. Our brother sighs and follows. We come out on a riverbank, and hear people yelling in Spanish. I've taken Spanish, so I can roughly translate. They're saying: "The dead! They're back!"

Daryl and I take off running. We make it onto the road and run onto the bridge. Daryl and I shoot our crossbows, surprising the Spanish-speaking people. We run forward, with walkers around us. "Hey man, I'm trying to help you out. Cover me!" Daryl cries.

The Mexicans don't understand. "Habla Inglés?" I cry, asking them if they speak English.

"No, lo siento," one of the men call.

"What'd they say?" Daryl asks.

"'No, sorry,'" I say, translating. I yell at the Mexicans to kill the undead. They understand and we kill all of the walkers, again. Merle comes in at the very end, yelling at them to speak English.

"I already asked them, Merle! They said no," I say. I pull the last walker away from one of the Mexicans, stab it in the head, and kick it over the edge of the bridge. The Mexican smiles at me in thanks.

Merle walks over to the car where the baby and its mother are. The baby continues to wail. He opens the back door, and the Mexican I saved speaks Spanish. Merle holds the gun up to him. "That ain't no way to say thank you."

"Let him go, Merle. And he did say thank you," I say. Merle ignores me and starts to raid the car. Daryl walks around the back and holds his crossbow up, aimed at our brother. "Get outta the car."

"I know you're not talking to me, brother," Merle says.

Daryl looks at the Mexicans. "Go! Get in your car!"

They don't understand, so I translate. They do, and Merle gets out of it. He pushes Daryl's crossbow out of his face. Daryl picks up the bag he dropped and swings it over his shoulder. We start walking, and Merle follows.

We walk into the woods, and Merle starts yelling at Daryl. "What were ya doin', pointing that thing at me?"

"They were scared, man," Daryl says.

"No, they were rude. They were rude and they owe us a token of gratitude."

"They don't owe us anything," I say.

"Oh, so y'all are helping people out of the goodness of your hearts now? Even though you might die doing it?"

Daryl and I stop walking. We turn and face Merle. "Hey, why don't you just shut up," I say.

"No way! You guys are doing stupid things to get yourself killed," Merle yells at me.

I take a step back, and Daryl takes a step forwards. Daryl starts yelling back at him. Some of the things are cold, but I would say the same thing. I stand to the side and watch the exchange. Daryl turns to walk away, but Merle's not done yet. He grabs Daryl's shirt and it rips, revealing long scars all over his back. I cover my mouth with my hand, because I have the same scars on my shoulders and upper back. It's why I never wear tank tops.

"I–I didn't know he was—" Merle starts to say, but Daryl cuts him off.

"Yeah, he did." Daryl swings his backpack on, covering his scars once again. "He did the same to you. That's why you left first."

Daryl gets up, while Merle just stares at him. "I had to, man. I would've killed him otherwise."

I drop my hand and feel rage coursing through me, rage against Merle. Daryl and I are extremely close, despite the fact that there's fifteen years between us. Basically, if you hurt one of us, you hurt the other as well. I kick Merle in the side, then the stomach, while yelling insults at him. "You're a worthless piece of—"

"Clary!" Daryl cries, so abruptly I stop fighting Merle. He has a blackening eye and busted lip. My guard's down, and it's the perfect time to strike. So Merle uses it. He swings his fist, and it connects with my jaw. I stumble, but I don't fall.

Merle swings his fist again, this time his metal sleeve, but I have my guard up. The metal sleeve hits my left wrist, and I can almost hear the bones crack. I hold my wrist with my free hand, and my oldest brother swipes my legs out from under me. I fall on my butt, and I throw my hands to the ground, a reflex. I remember my wrist is cracked when pain shoots up my arm, causing me to cry out. Daryl kneels in front of me, his back to Merle. He lightly touches my jaw where Merle punched me, it's throbbing. "You okay?" Daryl asks.

"Are you?" I ask him. He nods, and I nod with him. He helps me stand up and we start walking off.

"Where you going?" Merle calls after us.

We stop walking. "Back where we belong," I say.

"But I can't go with you! I tried to kill that black chick! Damn near killed the Chinese kid! Hell, I just beat up my own sister! I can't go with you!"

"He's Korean," Daryl says, putting his arm protectively around me.

"Whatever! Doesn't matter, man. I just can't go with you!" Merle cries.

Daryl looks at our brother over his shoulder. "You know, I may be the one walking away, but you're the one that's leaving. Again."

Daryl and I walk off, his arm around my shoulders. A moment later, Merle joins us again. Right before we get to the prison, I hear gunfire. When we get to the there, it's in chaos. There's walkers everywhere. Rick's pressed against the fence holding off two walkers. Merle stabs one walker in the head and pulls it off of Rick. Rick kills the other one. I take my knife out and start stabbing walkers as well. Daryl shoots some of them with his crossbow.

The walkers stop coming for a little bit. Rick, Daryl, Merle, and I stand outside the fence, looking in at the courtyard and the others. I can see Carl, Michonne, Beth, Glenn, Maggie, Hershel, and Carol standing inside the prison. The courtyard is completely filled with walkers. We'll have to fight our way through to get to the others.


	10. I Ain't a Judas

We fought our way through the courtyard. Now, Daryl, Rick, Merle, and I stand at the fence while Beth opens the gate. We run inside, and Carl tackles me with a hug. The force of it knocks us over. I land on top of him, his arms around my waist, and we roll for a few seconds. I prop myself up using my right arm, careful not to use my cracked left wrist. We grin, then start laughing. Daryl runs over and hugs Carol, while Merle just stands back. He helps Beth close the gate. We walk into our cell block.

Three days pass, and we still haven't decided what to do about the threat with Woodbury. We all stand around on the first floor, or sit on the steps. Carl and I sit next to each other at the top in silence. The others are arguing about what to do with the threat from The Governor and Woodbury. "I'm glad you came back," Carl finally says.

I look at him through the curtain of dark hair that falls over my shoulder. Even though I'm three months older than him, he looks about five months older than me. I get up and walk towards my cell. Carl gets up and follows me. "Did I say something?"

I stand halfway in my cell, and shake my head. "No, I just needed to change my shirt. It's covered in walker blood," I say, gesturing to my bloody t-shirt.

I was out trying to get rid of some of the walkers in the field earlier. He nods, and stays where he is. I sigh. "I have a tank top on underneath. If you want to talk, you still can."

Carl glances down, then stands in the doorway of my cell. He's quiet while I root through my backpack. I pull out one of Daryl's old shirts, one that he gave me when the outbreak began. I pull off my t-shirt, and suddenly realize I'm wearing a tank top in front of Carl, with my scars showing. It's too late to put the other shirt on, he already saw the scars. I reach for Daryl's old shirt, but Carl catches my arm. I flinch, remembering the way my father used to grab my arms, leaving dark bruises.

Carl notices me flinch and lets go of my arm. I pull on Daryl's shirt and button it up the front. "Clary," Carl whispers, "Where'd you get those?"

"Ain't important," I say, but look down. I start to walk out of the cell, but Carl catches my arms and blocks me.

"Clary, you can tell me. I won't tell anyone, if that's what you're afraid of." His hand slides to my cracked wrist, causing me to softly gasp in pain. He quickly moves his hand.

I look up at him. "No, Carl. I'm sorry, I can't."

I push past him and lean on the railing. "We ain't scared of that prick," Daryl's saying. He paces the second floor.

"Y'all should be. That truck through the fence thing, that's just him ringing the doorbell. We might have some thick walls to hide behind, but he's got the guns, and the numbers. If he takes the high ground around this place, he could just starve us out if he wanted to," Merle says.

"Let's put him in the other cell block," Maggie says.

"No. He has a point," I say.

Maggie looks at my oldest brother. "It was all you. You started this."

"What's the difference whose fault it is?" Beth asks. "What do we do?"

"I said we should leave. Now Axel's dead. We can't just sit here," Hershel says. Rick starts to walk away.

"Get back here!" Hershel yells. Rick stops walking. Hershel hobbles up beside him on his crutches. "You're slipping, Rick. We've all seen it. We understand why. But now is not the time. You once said this isn't a democracy, now you have to own up to that. I put my family's life in your hands. So get your head clear and do something."

The discussion ends with Rick going outside to take watch. A minute later, Carl follows him. I go downstairs, and walk into the lounge room. I walk over to Hershel, holding my wrist. This is the first time since we got back that I've had a chance to talk to him. He sees me holding it, and my bruised face. "What happened to you?"

"Merle. He was being a jerk, as usual, and we got in a fight," I say, not mentioning Daryl's scars. "I think my wrist's broken."

Hershel gestures for me to sit across from him at the table. I do, and he holds out his hand. I let him take my wrist, and he carefully examines it, being the doctor that he is. Hershel reaches for a roll of bandages, and starts wrapping them around my wrist. "It's just barely cracked, so it should heal in about two weeks."

I nod, and thank him. I see Daryl leaning on the railing on the second floor, and go up with him. I lean on the railing beside him. He looks at my shirt, which used to be his. "You still have that?" Daryl asks.

"Yeah. I do. I can't bear to leave it behind for some reason," I say.

"Maybe it's because you love your big bro too much." Daryl grins and puts his arm around my shoulders. I grin, but don't say anything. Daryl studies me. "You okay?"

"Yeah, it's just... Can I talk to you?"

"We are talking."

"I meant in private." Daryl nods, and we walk into my cell. I tell him about Carl wanting to know how I got my scars.

"The kid was watching you change?" Daryl asks, concerned.

"Okay, first off, I have a tank top on under my shirt." I lift the bottom of Daryl's shirt, showing my black tank top. "Second, we were having a conversation. Carl wants to know how I got my scars, and I don't know what to say. He's my best friend, I don't like keeping secrets from him."

"It's your decision to tell the kid. Do you want him to know your past or not?"

"But we have the same past."

"What are ya sayin'?"

"It's up to you, too. I think I'll tell Carl, but your part is up to you. Do you want him to know or not?"

"He already knows about Mom. I don't see how it'd hurt."

"So I tell him."

"Tell who what?" Carl asks, leaning into my cell.

I look at him past Daryl. "You, actually."

* * *

Daryl sits on my bed, while I sit on the floor, leaning against my brother's leg. Carl sits on the floor across from us. "You asked me where I got my scars. I decided to tell you," I say.

Daryl and I take turns telling Carl why we have our scars. Growing up, we had an abusive alcoholic for a father. After Daryl graduated high school, he bought the house next door so I could stay there if our father got out of control. In fact, I stayed there so often I was practically living there. By my eleventh birthday, on more than one occasion I had spent a month with my older brother. As soon as Merle graduated, he left the small town where we grew up. He abandoned Daryl, and I wasn't even born yet.

Carl glances down when we finish speaking. Without saying anything, he gets up and walks out of the room. I swing my crossbow on my back and walk out to keep watch. I find Rick outside, and stand beside him. He looks at my crossbow. "Shouldn't you have a gun?"

"I'm fine with the crossbow. Guns are just inside the door, I'll get one if I need it."

Carl walks out, and I walk back inside the prison. Carl comes in a minute later, and Rick follows about ten minutes after Carl. Carl sits on the steps, while Michonne, Daryl, Hershel, Glenn, Rick and I gather at the back of the cell block, and Rick sends Maggie to keep watch. She does, and Rick turns to us. "Field's filled with walkers. I didn't see any snipers, but we'll keep Maggie on watch."

"I'll get up in the guard tower," Daryl says. "I can take Clary with me. We could take out half of those walkers, give these guys a chance to fix the fence."

"Or use some of the cars to put the bus in place," Michonne offers.

"We can't access the field without burning through our bullets," Hershel says.

"So we're trapped in here. There's barely any food or ammo," Glenn says.

"Been here before. We'll be alright," I say.

"That's when it was just us. Before there was a snake in the nest."

Daryl turns toward him. "Man, we gonna go through this again? Look, Merle's staying here. He's with us now. Get used to it. All y'all."

Daryl turns and walks upstairs. I hesitate, then decide to stay.

"Seriously, Rick, I don't think Merle living here is really gonna fly," Glenn says.

"I can't kick him out," Rick replies, taking on the leader tone I've seen him take on before.

"I wouldn't ask you to live with Shane after he tried to kill you."

"Merle has military experience," Hershel says. "He may be erratic, but don't underestimate his loyalty to his brother, or his sister."

"Yeah," I hiss. "I'm sure he's totally loyal to me, considering he tried to kill me."

"What if we solve both problems at once?" Glenn proposes. "Deliver Merle to The Governor. Bargaining chip. Give him his traitor, maybe declare a truce."

We break off, and I go upstairs into my cell. I sit down on my bed, hug my knees to my chest, and put my head in my hands. I start to sob, but I keep the sobs quiet. "Clary?" asks a familiar voice at the door.

I look up to see Carl standing there. "Clary," he whispers, walking over to me.

I look away from Carl. He lightly touches my shoulders. "Clary, what happened at Woodbury? You said Merle tried to kill you."

"I don't wanna talk," I say.

"Why not?"

"I... I just don't want... Carl, please."

He pulls me to my feet, and pulls me close to him. I curl my arms into my chest. "Clary, it's okay now. Just tell me."

I hesitate. I already told him my secret, and I don't want to tell him anymore. I know I can trust him though. "He threw a walker at me."

"What happened?"

"What do you think happened? I had to kill it, or be killed. Then, he threatened..." my voice cracks, "he threatened to throw another one at me if I didn't tell him where the prison is."

By now, I'm shaking even though Carl's arms are around me. He gently wipes a tear from my cheek. "Hey, it's okay. He won't throw anymore walkers at you if I have anything to do with it."

I throw my arms around his neck, and I stand on my tiptoes so I'm his height. Carl's about two inches taller than me. He pulls back and cups my face in his hands. Carl slowly leans his head down, until we're so close we could be breathing the same air. My heart pounds in my chest, and Carl fills the rest of the space. His lips find mine, and then I'm kissing him back. I wrap my arms around his neck again, and slide my fingers into his shaggy, dark hair. Two or three minutes later, I hear one of the two voices I had been hoping not to hear. "What the hell, Carl?" Daryl asks.

Carl and I jerk back at the same time, as if our touch burned each other. I trip over one of my boots, and fall back onto my bed. Daryl glances at me, then glares at Carl. "Out," he barks.

Carl trips over his own feet on the way out, but quickly regains his balance. I get to my feet and face my brother, wondering what Rick's reaction would have been like. "What was that?" Daryl asks, taking a few steps into my cell.

"Uh, he kissed me," I answer. I don't really see how I can deny it, since my brother caught us red-handed.

"Yeah, I kinda noticed."

"I did too," I reply with an equal amount of sarcasm.

Daryl pauses. "Was this the first time?"

"No. When you rescued Carol and I, that was the first time."

Daryl nods, then checks outside the doorway. He comes back in, and grins. He puts his hands on my shoulders, and I raise my eyebrows. "Daryl, what are you thinking?"

"It's a good thing I like the kid," Daryl whispers, then leaves my cell block. I shake the confusion off, and walk outside. Maggie and Carl are keeping watch. I grab a rifle before walking out to join them. Carl glances at me, then goes back to looking through binoculars. "Psst, there's something weird out there."

Maggie and I aim our rifles where he's looking, and I look through the scope. There's a walker, but it looks like there's something behind it, or someone. The person behind it moves, and I see the woman with blonde hair. "That's Andrea," I whisper, then look at Carl. "Get Rick and the others."

He turns and goes inside. By now, Andrea made it to what would be the first gate if it was there. She walks into the courtyard that's more of a field, and takes out a walker. Rick, Daryl, Merle, Michonne and Beth come out of a Cell Block C, all carrying a weapon. Carl runs back out, where Maggie and I are. We all aim our weapons at Andrea. I glance over my shoulder, and see Carol and Glenn run out onto the catwalk between two cell blocks. "Go," Rick says, hiding behind the Hyundai.

Merle runs to the other vehicle. "Clear."

Merle, Daryl and Rick run forward. "Are you alone?" Rick calls.

"Open the gate," Andrea says.

"Are you alone?" Rick barks.

"Rick!"

Rick tosses Daryl the keys, and he opens the gate. Andrea leaves her walker with the others, then runs inside. Daryl closes the gate behind her. "Hands up! Turn around!" Rick barks. "Turn around now!"

Andrea drops her hatchet and listens. She turns, and Rick presses her against the fence, patting her down. A walker comes up, and tries to bite Andrea. She screams, and Rick pulls her away. "Get down," he orders.

Andrea gets down on her knees, her hands up. Rick finishes checking for weapons. "I asked if you were alone."

"I am," she says, clearly surprised by the treatment she's getting. Rick pulls her bag off of her shoulder and throws it to the middle of the courtyard. Everyone lowers their guns, and I follow Carl into the courtyard.

"Welcome back," Rick says. "Get up."

Rick pulls Andrea to her feet, and leads the way into the cell block. Andrea follows behind Rick, and the rest of us follow her. Carol meets Andrea with a hug. "After you saved me, we thought you were dead," admits Carol, pulling away.

Andrea looks at Hershel. "Hershel, my God," Andrea says, then looks around. "I can't believe this. Where's Shane?"

No one says anything.

"And Lori?"

Hershel breaks the silence. "She had a girl. Lori didn't survive."

"T-Dog?"

"Gave his life for Carol and Clary," Daryl says. "I'll never stop thanking him."

"I'm so sorry." Andrea takes a step towards Carl. "Carl."

Carl's silent, his expression hardened. I slide my hand into his, and give it a reassuring squeeze. Andrea looks at our leader. "Rick, I... You all live here?" Andrea asks, changing the subject.

"Here and the cell block," Glenn answers as I let go of Carl's hand.

Andrea points to the cell block. "There? Well, can I go in?"

Rick moves to block her from going in. "I won't allow that."

"I'm not an enemy, Rick."

"We had that field and courtyard until your boyfriend tore down the fence with a truck and shot us up," Rick says.

Andrea looks at our leader in disbelief. "He said you fired first."

"Well, Philip's lying. He killed one of our men," I say.

Andrea looks at me. "You know his name. How do you know his name?"

"Talked to him, right after my brother tried to kill me."

Andrea looks at Merle. "You tried to kill your own sister?"

"Orders," he answers, and Andrea looks back at Rick.

"His name was Axel," I say. "Good guy, friendly. We liked him. He was one of us."

"I didn't know anything about that. As soon as I found out, I came," Andrea says, and faces the rest of the group. "I didn't even know you were in Woodbury until after the shoot-out."

"That was days ago," Glenn says. He's right, about three days have passed since the Woodbury incident.

"I told you. I came as soon as I could." Andrea turns to Michonne. "What have you told them?"

"Nothing," answers Michonne calmly.

"I don't get it. I left Atlanta with you people, and now I'm the odd man out?"

"He almost killed Michonne, and he would have killed us," Glenn says.

Andrea points at Merle. "With his finger on the trigger. Isn't he the one that kidnapped you? His own sister, even? Who beat you, Glenn? Look," Andrea sighs, "I cannot excuse or explain what Philip has done. But I am here trying to bring us together. We have to work this out."

"There's nothing to work out," Rick says. "The Governor attacked us. We're gonna kill him. I don't know how, or when, but we will."

"We can settle this."

"There's nothing to settle!" I bark. "Don't you get it? Philip attacked us, killed one of us. He took three of us, and tried to kill two, or more, of us. Maybe not with his hands, but he ordered people to. He made Merle, my brother, try to kill me! There is nothing to settle, Andrea."

"There's room at Woodbury for all of you!"

Merle chuckles. "You know better than that."

Hershel has been quiet for most of the conversation. He glances down before speaking. "What makes you think this man, The Governor, wants to negotiate? Did he say that?"

"No," Andrea answers.

"Then why did you come here?" Rick inquires.

"Because he's gearing up for war. The people are terrified. They see you as killers."

"The only killer is The Governor," I say.

"The people are training to attack."

"I'll tell you what," Daryl says. "The next time you see Philip, you tell him I'm gonna take his other eye for taking my sister."

"We've taken too much shit for too long," Glenn says. Even though his voice is just above a whisper, it's strong and steady. "He wants a war? He's got one."

Andrea looks at desperately at our leader. "Rick. If you don't sit down, and try to work this out, I don't know what's gonna happen. He has a whole town."

"We have a whole lot of pissed off people," Daryl says.

Andrea turns around, facing the rest of us. "Look at you. You've lost so much already. You can't stand alone anymore."

Rick walks around and faces her. "You want to make this right, get us inside."

"No."

"Then we got nothing to talk about," Rick says, walking around her.

Andrea turns around and faces him. "There are innocent people."

Rick ignores her and walks into the cell block. After a long while, Rick decides to let her in. I'm upstairs with Carol, helping to take care of Judith. Andrea comes up the steps, and tells us she's getting ready to leave. "Oh, you can't leave without meeting Little Ass-Kicker," I say.

Andrea looks at Judith in Carol's arms. "Aww, may I hold her?"

"Of course," Carol replies, and carefully gives Andrea the baby.

"Oh," Andrea says softly. "Oh, look at you. Let me guess. Daryl named her Ass-Kicker."

"Little Ass-Kicker," I correct, grinning. "It's a nickname that stuck. That's my brother for you. Her real name is Judith."

"Judith," Andrea repeats, then looks down at Judith. "Hi, Judith. Oh, how precious are you? What happened to Lori?"

"Childbirth, during a C-section," Carol says. "Maggie. Carl had to—"

"Oh, my God."

"We were missing. We never knew until Daryl brought us back," I say. "And T-Dog died leading us to safety, only we got lost."

"Shane?"

"Rick killed him," Carol says, and gets a look of confusion from Andrea.

I fill her in. "The night we left the farm. That whole Randall thing was a lie. Shane tried to kill Rick."

"Shane loved Rick," Andrea says. "I mean, they were like brothers."

"Shane loved Lori," Carol says.

Andrea shakes her head. "Rick's become cold. Unsteady."

"He protects the group, leads us. That's what's important," I say. "I should go find Carl. I need to talk to him."

I leave as Carol and Andrea continue talking. I find Carl outside, on watch. I grab a rifle and walk out with him. "Hey," he says casually.

"Hey," I say in the same tone.

"Did Daryl say anything to you?"

"After he yelled at you? Yeah. Said it was a good thing he liked you."

Carl sighs. "Good, I thought he was considering killing me."

"Just for kissing me?"

"Guy thing."

"Uh-huh. Andrea's leaving soon."

"I heard," Carl says, then looks at where the others are. The crowd around a car in the courtyard. Andrea gets in and drives off. Maggie goes inside, then comes outside again next us. "I'll take watch for a while. You two go ahead in."

We nod, I drop off my rifle, and we walk inside. That night, Carl stands in the doorway of my cell. The others sit around lanterns on the first floor. "My dad said he's going on a run tomorrow. He's taking Michonne and I. He wants you to come," Carl says.

"Yeah?" I look up at him. "I don't think I'll go."

"You're sure? Just like that, you're not coming?"

"I'm pretty sure. I'm thinking it through."

"We leave in the morning."

"I usually make decisions a few minutes before the deadline."

"Well, do I get a kiss for good luck?" Carl asks.

I stand up and walk toward him, acting like I will. I stop when we're an inch away from each other. "Come back alive, Cowboy. Then we'll see."

I push past him and walk down the steps, sitting down behind Maggie and Glenn. Merle stands in the doorway, moonlight reflecting off of his gray hair, despite him being only nine years older than Daryl. Daryl, Hershel, and Rick, holding Judith, stand against the cell wall. Carol and Beth sit on the ground, leaning against the opposite wall. Michonne sits on a bucket, off to the side near the cells, staying away from everyone like we're contagious. I smile inwardly at the thought. I walk around Maggie and Glenn and sit down beside Michonne.

She stiffens when I sit down. "You don't talk much, do you?" I say after a silence.

Michonne's silent.

"I'll take that as a no. Nice to get to know you, Michonne."

Rick gives Judith to Carol and leaves to take watch. I get up and go sit next to Carol. Everyone's quiet, staring at each other. Carl comes down the steps and sits across from Carol, Beth and I. I decide to break the silence by doing the one thing I never do in front of people, I start to sing. "They hung a sign up in our town: 'If you live it up, you won't live it down.' So, she left Monte Rio, son. Just like a bullet leaves a gun. With charcoal eyes and Monroe hips, she went and took that California trip. Well, the moon was gold, her hair like wind. She said don't look back, just come on Jim."

Carl looks at me, surprised, considering the only times he's ever heard me sing I was singing with Beth. I glance at Carol and see her smiling as Beth starts to sing with me. "Oh, you got to hold on, hold on. You got to hold on. Take my hand, I'm standing right here. You gotta hold on.

"Well, he gave her a dime store watch and a ring made from a spoon. Everyone is looking for someone to blame. But you share my bed, you share my name. Well, go ahead and call the cops, you don't meet nice girls in coffee shops. She said baby, I still love you, sometimes there's nothin left to do. Oh, you got to hold on, hold on. You got to hold on. Take my hand, I'm standing right here, you got to just hold on." Beth and I finish, even though we didn't finish the song. Judith coos happily in Carol's arms.

"Okay, it's my turn to ask. Beth, how do you know 'Hold On?'" I ask.

"It's just a song that I know. But how do you know it?" Beth asks.

"I forget where I heard it, but I've always remembered it."

"It's my turn to ask," Carl says before Beth can reply. "Clary, how'd you learn to sing like that?"

"I don't know, I–I... Why, did you like it?" I ask.

"Are you kidding? I loved it. Daryl, did you know she could sing like that?"

"The only time I've ever heard her sing was our first night here, at the prison," Daryl says.

I look at Carol. "You called it. Go ahead, say it."

"Told you so," she says with a grin.


	11. Clear

We drive in silence, Michonne behind the wheel of the Hyundai. Rick sits in the passenger seat, and Carl and I sit in the back. I look out the window, humming quietly. We pass a sign left for a survivor from another survivor, both of them more than likely dead. Carl leans closer to me, and I look over at him. He's staring at something ahead of us, and I follow his gaze. It's a man, who's trying to hitchhike. As we drive closer, he starts to jump and wave his arms, yelling. "Hey! Hey, slow down! Slow down! Slow—"

Michonne keeps driving, ignoring the pleas from the hitchhiker. "I'm begging you! Please!"

Carl and I turn, watching the hitchhiker try to run after the Hyundai. We turn back around as Michonne continues to drive. I look over at Carl; he's looking down, his face covered in something, shock maybe. He believes in leaving no one behind, even when they're a danger to the group, or slowing the group down. That's one difference between the two of us; I'd leave a person behind if they were a danger, and it would depend on who is slowing the group down.

Michonne comes to a part of the road that's barricaded by overturned cars and trucks. Daryl's motorcycle would be able to fit through, though. Unfazed by the cars, Michonne drives around them, off the road. There's a worn path that she stays on; other people must come this way. I frown inwardly at the thought; we've been on the road with each other for so long that the thought of other people, outsiders, is almost menacing.

Michonne slows to look at a walker trapped under a truck. She starts to drive again, but the tires start spinning. She presses on the gas pedal harder, but the tires keep spinning. "Gas pedal's on the right," I mutter.

Michonne ignores my sarcastic comment. Carl glares at her, clearly annoyed with the progress we're making. Rick raises his dark eyebrows, and Michonne takes her foot off the gas. Suddenly, a walker pounds on the windshield, causing Carl and I to jump. Michonne gives no reaction, and neither does Rick. More walkers crowd around the vehicle, trying to get in. Rick looks over his shoulder at us. "Cover your ears."

Carl, Michonne and I cover our ears, and Rick rolls down the window a little. He slides the barrel of his revolver out the crack, the end of it against a walker's forehead. He covers his right ear with his left hand, and pulls the trigger.

* * *

Rick bends down to pick up a scarf. "Yeah, this'll work."

I raise my eyebrows at that. Michonne just nods, and Carl mirrors my reaction. I glance at the walker bodies on the ground; we had managed to kill them all. We turn and walk to the Hyundai, Michonne stepping over a walker body. "Tell me when."

Carl and Rick kneel in front of the car, while I go around the back. I can hear Rick's voice, but I can't make out what he's saying. "Wouldn't have to do it if she didn't get us stuck," Carl replies in a louder voice.

I open the car door and climb in like Rick told me to. Michonne and I sit in the car, while Carl and Rick work outside. "So," she says, her voice soft. "You and Carl."

"What?" I ask.

"You know, you and Carl. You have a thing?"

"Michonne, I am the last girl you want to talk to when it comes to girl talk."

"Just answer the question."

"Yeah. I mean, you should know, you were in the common room when he kissed me."

Michonne doesn't reply, for the hitchhiker is back. "Hey!" he yells, as Michonne and I both sigh in annoyance. "Hey! Help me! I'm begging you! Don't leave! Please!"

Rick stands, and Carl follows him. He stares at the hitchhiker running down the road. Our leader taps the car twice, telling us to go. Michonne puts her foot on the gas, and the Hyundai pulls forward. We ignore the cries of the man as Rick and Carl climb in, and we take off again. Michonne keeps driving until we enter King County. She parks in front of a store and we all get out, carrying our weapons.

Rick leads the way to the police station. We follow him inside, to the armory. He glances inside and sighs; there's no weapons or ammo left. I follow him inside, with Carl and Michonne behind me. Rick kicks the wall, muttering under his breath. I look around, and something gleaming on the floor catches my eye. I kneel to look at it; it's a single bullet. I pick it up and stand back up. "You got any other police stations in town?" Michonne asks.

"I was the police here. Me and a few other guys. Ain't a big town," Rick says, then pauses to think. "There's other places to check. May not have as many guns as were in here, but—"

"We need as many guns as were in here," Michonne says, cutting him off. "Ammo too."

"Yeah, we do," Rick agrees. "But I only got a line on a couple. There's a few places out on the main street. Bars, a liquor store. Owners had a gun or two behind the counter that people didn't know about. I did, I signed the permits. They might still be there."

Michonne doesn't say anything, except for a quiet, irritated sigh. Rick looks at her. "Do you have a problem with that approach?"

She looks at him. "No, Rick. I don't have a problem."

Carl and I watch as she turns to walk out of the armory. I hold my hand out, the bullet between my fingers. Rick looks at it, me, then back to the bullet again. He takes it, nodding once. Rick turns it in his fingers twice, then tucks it in his shirt pocket. Carl and I follow him out of the armory, and outside, where Michonne waits. He leads us down the road, towards the center of the town. Along the way, there's messages spray painted on the facades of buildings.

Near the message that says _AWAY WITH YOU_ Rick stops. He looks into a field that has piles of burnt walker bodies. He glances down, as if he knows what it means. Michonne, Carl and I look at them, trying to figure out what Rick knows. Rick starts walking again, and I notice there's arrows making a path on the sidewalk.

Rick leads us around a corner, pausing only once to stare at the strange contraption in the middle of the street. He and Carl pull out their guns, and I swing my crossbow into place. I keep my handgun under the waistband of my jeans. Michonne's hand rests on the handle of her katana, ready to use if need be. "What is it?" Carl asks.

"I don't know," Rick replies. It looks like some kind of walker-trap. They wander in, and get speared by the sharp sticks preventing the walkers from getting to whatever small animal is in a cage in the middle. We pause to stare at the message spray painted across the crosswalk; _TURN AROUND AND LIVE_.

"Well, _that's_ welcoming," I say. Michonne and Carl glance at me and smirk, but Rick ignores the sarcastic comment. We follow him through the labyrinth of walker-traps, careful to avoid trip wires. "It looks like someone's already made this theirs," Michonne says.

"Doesn't mean they found what we're looking for," Rick says. "Couple of the places are just up ahead."

We duck under a trip wire, and Rick points to a store up ahead. "Up there. Tyrell's. A shotgun and two handguns. License issues to Tyrell Debbs."

"You sound like an encyclopedia," I mutter. Rick ignores the snide, but joking, comment. Snarling from a walker comes from behind us. We turn and I aim my crossbow. Rick puts a hand on top of my crossbow. "Wait. She'll get caught."

The walker hits the trip wire we just ducked under, and a gunshot rings out, hitting her in the head. She falls to the ground as Michonne, Carl, Rick and I turn. There's a masked man standing on the roof of a building, holding a rifle. "Hands!" he yells.

Rick hurries to put his hands in the air, and Carl, Michonne and I follow his lead. "Now you drop what you got and you go! Your guns, your shoes, that crossbow, and that sword. All of it. Ten seconds."

"Carl, take Clary and run for the car now," Rick says under his breath. The masked man starts to count down as Carl looks at his father. "Dad."

"We need that rifle," I hiss. The man is at eight.

"I think I can get up there," Michonne says.

"Seven," says the man.

"Carl, go," Rick quickly says, and fires at the masked man. Carl grabs my hand and we run back the way we came. "Hold up," I say as we duck behind a truck. "We're not leaving without a fight."

"Agreed," he says. I pull my gun out and fire two shots at the masked man before ducking back behind the car. The gunfire stops, and Carl grabs my hand again, pulling me towards an alley. I look up, and see that the masked man is gone. We make it into the alley as the gunfire starts again. I lean out from the alley and fire three shots at the man, then duck back into the alley. Rick makes his way across the street, trying to get to a different alley.

He hides behind a barrel. The masked man is almost to our alley. Rick reloads and gets ready to lean out and fire, but the man is already waiting for him. Rick starts to lean out, and Carl steps out, firing once. It hits the man in the chest and he goes down, groaning. I step out behind Carl, and Rick looks up at us. Michonne appears next to us, coming down from the roof. We regroup at the man, holding him at gunpoint and sword-point. Carl watches for more walkers, but there aren't any. He turns away and looks at the man. Rick looks at his son in surprise. "You okay?"

"Yeah."

"I told you to take Clary and run for the car. I didn't want you to have to do that."

Carl looks up at Rick. "I had to."

Michonne glances at Carl, then down at the man. Despite Carl shooting him, there's no blood. Rick kneels and taps the man's stomach. It clinks. "He's wearing body armor," Rick declares.

He pulls open the man's outer shirt to reveal a black bulletproof vest, like the ones that we wear when we're on watch. Rick pulls it off and lifts up the man's white tank top, revealing dark skin and a bruise. "He's alive," Rick says.

"Do we care?" Michonne asks.

Rick glances up at her, then takes the mask off. Underneath is a dark skinned man with short, black hair and a goatee of the same color. His eyes are closed. Rick stares at him, his face a mix of surprise, confusion, and horror. "Yeah," he finally says.

Rick and Michonne leave to go check the surrounding buildings, and Carl and I stay behind to keep watch over the man. Rick won't tell us who he is, but he will tell us that he knows him. I look up as the two come back. They carry the man up the stairs. Carl and I step over the welcome mat, after Michonne warned us that theirs knives under it. "Whoa," Rick suddenly barks.

Carl and I look up at him from the bottom step. "You two, watch the trip wire," Rick calls from the top of the stairs.

We nod, and go up the steps, careful of the trip wire. I push aside the curtain, and there's a bloodied hatchet hanging there. "Whoa," Carl breathes.

Carl and I step over the trip wire and follow Rick and Michonne into another room. Carl and I stop short in the doorway when we look around the room. "Whoa," I say.

The entire room is filled with weapons—rifles, handguns, assault rifles, grenades, and knives. There's a few crossbows in one corner. Rick and Michonne lay the man down on a cot, and our leader looks around. "I showed him that weapons locker last year."

"And it had all of this in it?" I ask.

"No, not even half," Rick says, still looking at everything. "He's been busy."

Michonne, Carl and I each grab a bag and start filling it with weapons and ammo. Rick stares at the wall; the man had written many messages on it as well. He stares at one that says _DUANE TURNED_.

"No," Rick says. We stop packing and look up at him. "We're gonna wait for Morgan to wake up."

"Morgan?" Carl asks.

Rick points at the man on the cot in response. "We're gonna make sure he's okay."

"He tried to kill us," Michonne says.

"He told us to go. He didn't know who we were."

"He tried to kill us and we didn't leave him for the walkers. I think he's had a pretty damn good day," I say. "He doesn't need half of these guns, we do."

"We're waiting for him to wake up. That's it."

"Have you had a look around this place?" Michonne asks. "The axe, the spikes, the walls."

"You think he's crazy?"

"No. I think he's dangerous."

"I agree," I say. "He's dangerous."

"I know him."

"He wasn't like this then. You said so yourself," Michonne says.

"We're gonna wait for him to wake up," Rick decides. Michonne sighs, irritated. Michonne looks at Morgan's collection of odds and ends weapons. There's crowbars, an ax or two, and a pick-ax. I watch as she studies a pick-ax, then picks it up. She acts as if she's chipping away at something. "What are you, prospecting?" I sarcastically ask.

Michonne sets the pick-ax down, glaring at me. I turn and walk into the other room. Carl studies a map of King County. On it, there's a place marked _Rick's_ _House_. I look at Carl, he notices I'm there. I point to Rick's house. "That's where you used to live?"

"Yeah. It's my neighborhood. It's...gone. It's burnt down," Carl says, pointing to the lines drawn through a few of the houses. Rick comes over. "What do you see?"

"Our neighborhood," answers Carl. "It's gone, burnt to the ground."

"Is that why you wanted to come? To see the house?"

I look at Carl. He doesn't answer. "Carl," Rick says.

Carl stares at the map, then looks down. "I–I just wanted to come."

I can tell he's lying. I'd know the look anywhere. Rick walks off, satisfied with the answer. "Why'd you want to come?" I whisper.

"Please don't tell my dad," Carl whispers, glancing up at me. He pauses. "There's a picture, a picture of my mom, my dad, and I. I want to get it for Judith, so she knows what her mom looks like."

"Oh, Carl," I whisper.

"What? Is it a bad idea?"

"No, no, it's great. I think it's a great idea. It's sweet."

Carl looks at me, a small grin on his lips. He tucks a strand of my dark hair behind my ear, lightly touching my cheek as he does so. He leans forward, and I lean too. He abruptly stops when we hear crunching behind us. We turn around. Michonne's eating crackers. "We're eating his food now?" I ask.

Michonne shrugs. "Mat said welcome."

"Yeah, it said welcome. And had a whole lotta knives under it," Carl says.

"It's just about as welcoming as that _TURN AROUND AND LIVE_ out front," I mutter.

I walk back into Morgan's room, perching myself on the table next to Michonne, while Carl stays in the doorway. "I'm going on a run," he declares.

"Where?" Rick asks.

"I thought maybe the one thing people didn't loot was cribs. There's that baby place that Mom's friend Sara ran. It's just around the corner."

"Carl."

"Dad, it's just around the corner. And there's all those walker traps."

"You're gonna need some help carrying the box," Michonne says.

"What?"

"You're gonna get a crib, you gotta get the box. It a big, and heavy. You're gonna need help carrying the box. You are getting a crib, right?"

Carl nods. "That's what I said."

Before I can volunteer to go with Carl, Michonne does. "Then I'll go with him."

Rick considers this. "Right there, that's the deal. You get into trouble, you holler, okay? We'll hear it and come running."

"Okay. So, Clary, how 'bout now?" Carl says, referring to what he asked me the night before. Rick goes back to Morgan, and Michonne goes back to her crackers. I get up and walk into the other room, and I pause to pat his shoulder. "I told you to come back alive, and then we'll see, Officer Kid."

I walk past him, shifting my crossbow strap on my shoulder. "You called me 'Cowboy' last night," Carl calls after me.

"What, you like that one better?" I ask, turning around to face him.

"Yes, I do, Dixon."

Michonne gets up, her katana on her back, and walks to the door. "You coming, kid?"

He nods, and Michonne goes down the steps. Carl walks past me, but I stop him by putting my hand on his shoulder. I kiss his cheek, and he looks at me in confusion. "What was that for?"

"Just in case. Now get going, Grimes. You have work to do."

Carl wraps one arm around me and kisses my forehead before following Michonne down the stairs. I turn to see Rick standing in the doorway. "Did he just do what I think he just did?"

"What?" I ask innocently.

"Did my son just kiss you?"

"Umm." I don't know if I should answer truthfully to that. He'll probably ask Daryl if he knows anything about Carl and I when we get back to the prison, so I figure, what the heck? "Yes."

"Do—"

"But he kissed my forehead."

"Does Daryl know?"

"Yeah. He, umm, he kinda caught us yesterday."

Rick doesn't say anything, just turns and walks back over to Morgan. I look around the room, and can hear them talking. I decide to go downstairs and keep watch at the door, incase any walkers would come. I hold my crossbow in front of me, ready to use if I need to. All of the sudden, I hear shouting and grunts from upstairs. "Rick?" I call.

"I'm fi—" Rick starts to reply, then cuts it off with a grunt. There's and awful lot of crashing, yelling, grunting, and banging from upstairs.

"Rick!" I yell, and run up the stairs. I stop short when I remember the trip wire. Carefully, I step over it, and hurry into Morgan's room. I stop in my tracks to find Morgan pinning Rick to the ground, a knife hovering above his heart. Rick's pushing back on the knife, and Morgan's trying to kill our leader. "Rick!" I yell.

I swing my crossbow into place, my blue eyes hard. Rick glances up at me. "Clary, don't!" he yells.

"You don't clear!" Morgan yells. He pushes the knife down, just above Rick's heart, causing the leader to cry out. "Rick!" I cry.

He head butts the other man and pushes Morgan off of him. I fire, and the arrow goes into Morgan's left shoulder. He cries out, and Rick pulls the knife out of his shoulder. Morgan pushes himself up against a wall, and I pull my handgun out, aimed at him. "You know me!" Rick yells, pulling his handgun out and aiming it at Morgan. "You crazy son of a bitch!"

"Please," Morgan says. He grabs my handgun, but doesn't pull it from my grasp. He pushes the end of the barrel to his forehead. "Please."

I look at Rick in surprise—he's just as surprised as I am. "Please," Morgan continues. "Please kill me."

"Rick?" I ask. He shakes his head, telling me not to obey Morgan. I pull my handgun back and step away. Morgan pulls my arrow out and throws it to the ground, then rolls on his side. I'm not sure if he's laughing or crying. I pick up my arrow, tuck my handgun back in place, and hurry over to Rick. I reload my crossbow as he looks for bandages. I push him onto a stool. "Sit down and let me do it."

I find a large roll and go back over to Rick. He had found a little bit of gauze, and was working on pressing that into his bleeding shoulder after he unbuttoned and took off his shirt. I go to take the gauze from Rick, but he stops me. "Take care of him first, you shot him."

"And he stabbed you," I reply.

"At least tie him up so he doesn't attack you too."

I sign, but do what he asks. I zip tie Morgan's hands around a metal gun rack that's empty of guns. I go back to Rick. He's struggling with trying to hold the gauze in place and wrap the bandages around him at the same time. I take the roll of bandages from him. "Just let me do it."

He holds the gauze in place as I wrap the bandages around him. Rick studies me. "How'd you learn to do this?"

"I read a few books on things like this. I like to have a wide variety of skills." I finish wrapping the bandages around him. "There."

Rick nods his thanks, and pulls his shirt back on. I take the gauze and bandages and go over to Morgan. "Just kill me," he's been saying, and continues to say it. "Just kill me. Let me bleed out. Leave me for the walkers. Just kill me."

I kneel in front of him. "We're not going to kill you."

"Please, just kill me."

"Forget it. We ain't killing you," I say. I unbutton the top part of his shirt and push it aside, revealing a bloodied white tank top. I hold a little bit of gauze on the arrow wound, but there isn't that much blood. The arrow didn't go in very far. The wound is at the very edge of his shoulder, almost on his upper arm. I wrap the bandages around his shoulder and pull back as Rick stands up. I walk away as he walks over. "You found me last year in my front yard, Morgan. You and... you found me. You fed me. You told me what's happening. You saved me. My name is Rick Grimes. You know me, Morgan. You know me. I'm not wearing a dead man's face."

Rick pulls a walkie talkie out of a basket and holds it up. "I gave you this. I said I'd turn it on everyday at dawn so you could find me."

Morgan looks at Rick, as if realizing who he is for the first time. "Rick? I know you. Oh man. Dammit, I know you. I know who you are." Morgan looks at me. "But I don't know her."

"I'm a friend," I say. "Clary Dixon. I'm with Rick's group."

Morgan nods once, then turns his attention back to Rick and the walkie. "You said you'd turn yours on, everyday at dawn. That's what you said. I mean, I hadn't worked up to it yet, and then I did. On the roof every morning for days. For weeks, me and my boy. And then... me. Just static, though. Nothing but static. And then nothing but nothing. You weren't there. You were never there."

"I was," Rick quietly says.

"No, not when I tried. I mean, you said you would turn on your radio everyday at dawn."

"Morgan, I—"

Morgan's voice rises with each word. "You said that you would turn on your radio everyday at dawn!"

"I did."

"_And you were not there!_"

"I kept getting... I kept getting pushed father out. I had to. I didn't have a choice. I found my wife and my boy. I had people, Clary's one of them. I had to keep them safe. We kept getting pushed back deeper into the country. I swear to God, I didn't have a choice."

Morgan kicks the walkie over to Rick, who's pacing around the room. "You can have your radio back 'cause it looks like I finally found you. You found your wife, and your son. That's what happened, right? You found them. And did they... did she... did your wife... did she Turn?"

"Maybe I should go," I say. Morgan hit a sore spot for Rick.

"No, stay," Rick says, glancing at me. He turns his attention back to Morgan. "No, she died."

"So you didn't have to see that, then. Of course not. Not like me." Morgan laughs. "No. Not like me. Not like my wife. You remember what happened to her? You remember what she was? Yeah. Oh. You gave me the gun. You tried."

"What did I try, Morgan? What did I try?" Rick asks, kneeling in front of the other man.

"You tried to get me to do it 'cause I was supposed to do it. I was supposed to kill her, my Jenny. I knew I was supposed to, but I let it go. Let it go like there wasn't gonna be a reckoning. We was always looking for food. You know, it always came down to food. And I was... I was checking out a cellar and I didn't want Duane to come down there with me. And then when I came up, she was standing there right in front of him and he had his gun up and he couldn't do it. So I called to him and he turned. And then she was just... just on him. And I see red. I see red. Everything is red. _Everything_ I see is _red_. And I do it. Finally. Finally was too late. I was supposed to. I was selfish. I was weak. You gave me the gun. Hey, your boy, is he dead?"

"No."

"No? He will be."

That's enough for me. I turn and walk down the stairs, but I can still hear parts of the conversation behind me. "See, the good people, they always die. The bad people, they do too. But the weak people, the people like me, we have inherited the earth," Morgan's saying.

I walk out onto the street, picking my way around the walker traps. "Clary?" Carl calls.

I look towards the sound of his voice. He and Michonne are taking the caged animals from the walker traps. I make my way over to them. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Bait," Michonne relies. She takes skateboards, and I follow the duo to a restaurant. Michonne sets a cage on each skateboard, and opens the door. She pushes all the skateboards inside, distracting the walkers. I set my crossbow down and pull out my longest knife, a machete. Carl leads the way inside, and Michonne and I follow. We sneak through the building, and peek around a corner. All the walkers are distracted by the caged animals. Carl carefully crawls up onto a barstool to get a picture of his family. Michonne and I keep watch. Carl gets the picture, and is just ready to climb down when a walker stands up from behind the bar, growling. He grabs Carl's ankle, but Michonne already has her katana through the walker's head. She carefully removes the katana, trying not to make any sound. She sits the walker's head on the counter, and Carl climbs down.

We hurry back to the front of the building, but a squeaking cuts us off halfway. A rat from one of the cages rounds a corner, right in front of us. The walkers follow it, and Michonne pulls Carl and I behind her. She throws a stool down, tripping some of the walkers. Carl and I head towards the kitchen, but walkers come out. Carl shoots one and I stab another, and we make our way around the other side of the restaurant. Michonne partially decapitates a third, and stabs a fourth one without even turning around. She follows us out of the building. Carl overturns a table, blocking a walker from us. Michonne pushes us out of the restaurant, and Carl drops the picture in the process. "No!" he cries.

Michonne closes the door behind us. "I've gotta go back in," he says.

"Where is it?" I ask.

"We have to go back. We have to. I have to," Carl says. "It's the only one left!"

Michonne doesn't move from the door. "Fine," Carl mutters, and moves to go past her.

She catches his arm. "Not like this. I don't know you, I get that. But can you do something for me? Wait here and keep your girlfriend safe."

"She's not my girlfriend, and, trust me, she doesn't need me to keep her safe. And no. I can help."

"No. And no more bullshit. You and Clary wait here, and that's how we get it done."

Carl gives in, and moves to keep the doors closed. I stand beside him while Michonne sneaks in the back. Carl looks at me. "Clarissa—"

I immediately cut him off. "Clary, not Clarissa."

"Clary," he corrects. Carl pauses. "Are you my girlfriend?"

I'm saved from having to answer by Michonne being back. Carl looks at her, then walks toward her. "Did you get it?"

"Well, I'll get back to you on that," I mutter. Michonne hands him the picture.

He looks at it. "I just thought Judith should know what her mom looked like. Thank you."

We walk away from the cafe, leaving the walkers pounding on the doors. "I was gonna go back in anyways," Michonne admits. She pulls out a multicolored wooden cat from behind her back. "It's too damn gorgeous. I couldn't leave it."

We break off, Carl and Michonne going to the baby place and I go back to where Rick and Morgan are. I go up the stairs and into the room. "I'll take that as a sign," Rick's saying.

"What's a sign?" I ask.

"Oh, you're back. I was starting to think the walkers got you."

I scoff. "Please, walkers getting me? As if."

I go back downstairs when I get strange looks from Morgan. I wonder what they talked about when I was gone. I wait for Carl and Michonne. Rick comes down the stairs, carrying three gun bags. I take two from him, swinging them into my shoulders. He nods his thanks. Carl and Michonne come back, carrying the crib. "I was just getting ready to look for you," Rick says.

"Sorry," Carl says.

"It's all right. You're here now."

Carl looks at the blood on Rick's shirt from where he stabbed him. "Ah, it's nothing," he says.

Rick and I follow Carl and Michonne out of the walker traps. "He's okay?" Michonne asks, looking at Morgan.

"No, he's not," Rick says.

"Wait," Carl says. We stop. "Hey."

"Carl," Rick says.

"Morgan. I had to shoot you. You know I had to, right? I'm sorry."

Morgan walks over to Carl and looks at him. "Hey, son. Don't ever be sorry."

Morgan turns and goes back to his walkers caught in the traps. We walk back to the Hyundai, making multiple trips for weapons. We got a new crossbow for Daryl, and lots more arrows. Carl and I climb in the back while Rick and Michonne finish packing the car. Michonne climbs into the driver's seat, and we take off. We keep driving, and we make it to where we got stuck. Michonne pulls around again, careful not to get stuck in the mud. Alone the side of the road is the devoured hitchhiker's body, and his large backpack. Michonne drives past it, then gives it a second thought. She backs up and tells Carl to get out. He gets out and throws the bag into the car, then climbs back in again. He closes the door as Michonne starts to drive back to the prison. We drive home in silence.


	12. Arrow on the Doorpost

Daryl and I pull into the abandoned warehouse first on his motorcycle, Rick and Hershel in the Hyundai behind us. Daryl and I climb off the motorcycle, swinging our crossbows onto our shoulders. He carries his new crossbow, a 380 Stryker crossbow. Rick climbs out of the Hyundai and tells Hershel to stay in the car while the rest of us check the warehouse. As we run around the silos, I see a sign that says _Verlin's Feed & Seed Co_.

Daryl leads us to the second warehouse, where Rick and The Governor are supposed to meet. He holds up his hand, telling us to stop. I look around him and see a walker lying on the ground. I pull out my knife and look at my brother. He nods, telling me to make sure it's dead. I stab the walker in its head, and pull my knife out. Rick and I take the back door, and Daryl goes out front.

I lead Rick inside, my crossbow in front of me incase I need to use it. We pause when I hear floorboards creaking, then we realize it's just us. Rick pulls the hammer on his revolver back. We continue inside, and walk up on a platform where a table and two chairs are. We look around, into the shadows. Rick and I aren't moving, but there's footsteps and floorboards creaking. The Governor walks out of the shadows, wearing an eyepatch on his right eye. I swing my crossbow into place on my shoulder, and The Governor walks up onto the platform. He stops three feet away from me, ignoring the crossbow aimed at his chest. He holds his hands up, and I move to fire, then realize he's surrendering.

The Governor grins. His smile fades and he lowers his hands. "We have a lot to talk about. Send the girl outside."

"You attacked us. Makes things pretty clear," Rick says. He doesn't send me outside.

"I was trying to make things clear. I could've killed you all. I didn't."

"And here we are."

The Governor moves for his belt, and Rick aims his revolver at the other man. I take a step back so Rick wouldn't hit me if he fires, but I keep my crossbow up. The Governor holds his hands up again. "I'm gonna remove my weapon and you're gonna send the girl outside. This is a matter for the leaders. I'm gonna show that I mean to negotiate in good faith. I'd like you to do the same. May I?"

"Rick?" I ask, hesitant to lower my crossbow. The Governor takes off his gun belt, and hands it to me. I set it on the table behind me.

"Clary, go out with Daryl," Rick says slowly. I hold my crossbow in front of me, and back away from the Woodbury leader. I walk out the way I came in, and walk around the warehouse. I see Daryl kneeling by a window, looking inside. I kneel beside him, and he whips around, the crossbow pointed at me. "Whoa!" I cry. "Don't shoot! It's me."

"Jesus, Clary," Daryl says. "You scared the shit out of me."

"What was that?" Rick asks from inside.

"I don't know," The Governor says. "I'll go check."

"Hide!" I hiss. Daryl and I press ourselves against the wall on either side of the window. The Governor appears at the window, and looks out. After a minute, he goes back inside. "I didn't see anything," he reports to Rick.

Daryl gestures for me to follow him to the front of the building. I do, and Hershel pulls up. "He's already in there," I say. "Sat down with Rick."

"I don't see any cars," Hershel says.

"It don't feel right," Daryl says. "Keep it running."

Hershel leans back into the driver's seat as another car pulls up. Daryl and I turn. "Heads up," I say.

Daryl and I aim our crossbows at an approaching cream-colored SUV. I watch as Martinez climbs out of the driver's seat, followed by a man with short, blonde hair and glasses. Andrea climbs out of the passenger side. "Why the hell is your boy already in there?" Daryl asks.

"He's here?" Andrea asks, dumbfounded.

"Yup," I say. Andrea sighs and walks inside. I look over at Martinez. "Martinez."

"Clary," he says.

"You two know each other?" Daryl asks.

"When Merle took me," I say, lowing my crossbow a little.

"The Governor told me to take her to the others," Martinez says. He leans against the SUV. The other guy gets out a notebook and starts to write in it. Hershel climbs out of the Hyundai and stands next to Daryl. I look at the notebook and see the man's taking notes on what he calls biters. "Biters?" I ask.

He looks up. "The undead."

"Ah. We call 'em walkers."

We go back to silence. "Maybe I should go in," Hershel says after a while.

"The Governor thought it best if he and Rick spoke privately," says the other man, looking up from his notebook.

"Who the hell are you?" Daryl asks.

"Milton Mamet," he answer.

"Great. He brought his butler," I mutter, causing Martinez to chuckle.

"I'm his advisor," Milton says, going back to his work.

"What kind of advice?" Daryl inquires.

Milton stops writing and looks up. "Planning. Biters. Uh, you know, I'm sorry. I don't feel like I need to explain myself to the henchmen and the henchman's daughter."

"You better watch your mouth, sunshine," Daryl says, glaring at Milton. "And she's my sister, dumbass."

Martinez interrupts before I say something. "Look, if you and I are gonna be out here pointing guns at each other all day, do me a favor. Shut your mouths, both of you."

"Why don't you shut yours?" I hiss.

"I think it would be even better if the girl would shut her mouth."

Daryl walks forward, ready for a fight. "We don't need this," Hershel says, before Daryl can say anything. "If all goes south in there, we'll be at each other's throats soon enough."

"I might have to agree with Hershel on this one, even though I helped to start this," I say. "We don't need the brother and the lieutenant starting a fight now."

Daryl steps back and leans on the Hyundai next to me. After a while, Andrea comes back outside. She sits on a bench outside the door, and we go back to silence. Daryl paces in front of the Hyundai, anxious for Rick to come back out. Milton walks forward. "There's no reason not to use this time we have together to explore this issue ourselves."

"I can think of many reasons why we shouldn't, Alfred," I say. I get a look of confusion from everyone. "The butler from Batman, anyone?"

"I'm not his butler," Milton mutters.

"The glasses aren't helping you," I say, and he looks down. I think I destroyed his self-conscience.

"Boss said to sit tight and shut up," Martinez says.

"Don't you mean The Governor?" Daryl says.

"It's a good thing they're sitting down," Milton interrupts. "Especially after what happened."

"You mean after my brother took three of our people, including my—our—sister?"

Milton ignores my brother. "They're gonna work it out. Nobody wants another battle."

"I wouldn't exactly call it a battle," Daryl says.

"I'd call it... I'd call it getting our people back," I say.

"And killing our people in the process!" Milton snaps, then softens his voice, looking at Daryl. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to snap at your sister. But I would call it a battle and I did." He holds up his notebook. "I recorded it."

"For what?" Daryl asks.

"Somebody's gotta keep a record of what we've gone through. It'll be a part of our history."

"That makes sense," Hershel says.

I hold up my hand. "Hold up. 'What we've gone through?' You act like its a major tragedy."

"Well... well, you killed at least a quarter of our people," Milton says, and looks at Hershel. "I've done dozens of interviews—"

The metal at the nearby fence starts to rattle, and walkers start to growl. We turn, but don't see any walkers. Martinez, Daryl and I go to investigate. We round one of the silos, Martinez carrying a baseball bat. Daryl has his crossbow aimed at one of the walkers, then drops it and looks at Martinez. "After you," my brother says.

Martinez looks at him. "No way. You first."

I sigh and go in between the two men, pulling out my knife. I push one walker against the silo and dive my knife into its forehead. Martinez looks at my brother. "Pussy. Your sister's going before you."

Martinez bashes one walker's head in as more come around the corner. He looks over his shoulder, giving Daryl a smiler that says Bring it. Daryl glances at me, then takes a step forward. He fires, and the arrow pierces a walker's forehead. My brother looks at Martinez, who twirls his baseball bat in his fingers, then kills another walker. Daryl reloads his crossbow and shoots another walker before Martinez can kill it. The arrow goes through the walker's head and into another's neck. I stand back, watching for more walkers. There are none. I turn back to my brother and Martinez.

Martinez makes his way towards the walker with the arrow in its neck. Daryl moves his knife so he can throw it, but Martinez is making his way towards the walker. He throws it anyways, and it pierces the walker's head. Martinez looks at him in surprise. I turn and go back to Hershel, Andrea and Milton, realizing that I won't be doing any walker killing. When I get back, Milton looks at me. "Where's Martinez?"

"Gee, thanks for being concerned about my brother," I retort.

"Clary, where's Martinez and Daryl?" Andrea asks.

"They're fine. They got into some walker killing contest. Things that guys do."

Andrea sits on a bench by the door to the warehouse, and Hershel and Milton sit on a wooden bench, leaning against a fence. I sit on the ground across from them. Milton looks at Hershel. "May I ask how you lost your leg?"

Hershel looks up from Milton's notebook and to its owner. "I was bit."

"So you cut off your leg to keep the infection from spreading?" Milton slides his glasses on. "Interesting. How long after the initial bite?"

"I'm not exactly sure, I was in pain. Clary, do you remember?"

"Wait." Milton looks at me. "You were there?"

"I held his arm down, but I didn't—_couldn't_—watch," I say. "As for how long, almost immediately. Probably 'bout a minute afterwards."

Milton turns his attention back to Hershel. "You didn't bleed out?"

"Glad I could be of great assistance," I mutter under my breath.

Hershel and Milton both ignore the comment. "We have good people," Hershel says. "They took care of me."

"Doctors?" Milton inquires.

"No. We learn by trial and error," I say.

"Me too." Milton looks at Hershel. "May I see it?"

Hershel looks at the other man, his face a mix of confusion and surprise. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Your stump. I'd like to, um..." Milton clears his throat. "I'd like to see where the amputation was. How high above the bite."

"I'm not showing you my leg."

"It's important data," Milton tries. I grin because I know his attempts will fail. As smart and level-headed and Hershel is, he's one of the most hard-headed people I've ever met.

"I just met you," Hershel continues. "At least buy me a drink first."

Milton looks at him, half confused. Hershel busts up laughing, and soon I follow. Milton finally understands that it's a joke, and laughs. After a minute, we gradually stop laughing, and Hershel carefully stands up. He gets his crutches and gun. "If you'll excuse me."

Milton and I watch and he goes over to Andrea. I stand up and brush the dirt from my jeans. I pick up my crossbow and gun, and slide my knives into my belt. "I should go make sure Martinez and Daryl didn't kill each other."

When Milton sees my weapons, his eyes widen. I look down at them. "What, these? You should have seen this building I went to with Rick the other day. Weapons everywhere. Shot a guy."

Milton's eyes widen even farther. I shrug. "He's okay. Shot him in the shoulder with an arrow. He stabbed Rick. Rick's okay, too."

Milton nods vigorously. I look down at him. "I'm not gonna shoot you, Miltie, unless you try anything stupid."

"Are you a Dixon?" Milton asks.

"Yeah, I said that Daryl's my brother. You were at the arena when my brothers fought, weren't you? Governor made a big speech about brother verses brother and all that."

"Yeah, I was. Anyway, Merle would call me that, 'Miltie.'"

I nod. "Dixons give people nicknames. Gotta go. I really hope those two idiots didn't kill each other. I don't know how well that would turn out."

Milton chuckles as I walk off, back to where I left Martinez and Daryl. I can hear Martinez's voice. "You know, I respect her. She's a fighter."

"Yeah, she is, isn't she?" Daryl says.

I stop and listen. Daryl continues. "I taught her everything she knows, though. Crossbow, guns. Taught her how to use a knife, but I still haven't taught her how to throw 'em."

I roll my eyes. Daryl's always taking credit for teaching me the skills I have. He taught me almost everything. "What about field medicine?" asks Martinez.

"That, she taught herself. Don't know how, though. Hey, have you seen her when it comes to a herd of walkers?"

"No, why?"

"She tears through them. A herd of about seventy? They're down in a few minutes."

"Now I'm really respecting your sister. And I'm a little scared of her."

"Same here, but not as much. Scared of her, that is."

Daryl and Martinez laugh, then walk over to me. "How long were you there?" Martinez asks.

"Long enough to know that two men about twice my age are scared of a fifteen year old girl."

They try to deny everything they said, but I keep finding ways to prove them wrong. "Okay, fine, I give in. I'm scared of you," Martinez says.

I look at Daryl. "Fine, I'll give in too. After all, I've seen you scare five prisoners, two of which tried to kill Rick," Daryl says.

"Wait a second. Prisoners are scared of you?"

"Yeah. I've had to show them how to take down a walker before. Insulted the leader in his own language."

"Nice," Martinez says, nodding his approval. We walk back to the others, and break off. Martinez, Milton and Andrea go over to their SUV. Hershel, Daryl and I stand next to the Hyundai. The Governor opens the door to the warehouse and steps out, Rick behind him. The Governor climbs behind the wheel of the SUV, and Rick comes over to us. Daryl and I nod once at Martinez, who says goodbye the same way. Martinez and Milton climb in the back of the SUV, while Daryl and I walk past Andrea to my brother's motorcycle. Rick climbs behind the wheel of the Hyundai, and Hershel climbs in beside him. After a moment's hesitation, Andrea goes with The Governor. Daryl and I lead the way back to the prison, Rick and Hershel behind us. The Governor drives the opposite way, towards Woodbury.

When we get back to the prison, Carol and Carl open the gate for us. Daryl and I climb off the motorcycle, and Rick and Hershel get out of the Hyundai. Glenn and Maggie come out to meet us, rifles on their shoulders. Rick looks at all the walkers in the field. "Let's get inside," he says.

We follow him inside, and stand around the cell block. Rick takes a rifle from the weapons cell, and stands at the base of the steps. We crowd around, waiting to hear what he has to say. "So, I met this Governor," Rick says. "Sat with him for quite a while."

"Just the two of you?" Merle asks.

"Yeah."

"Should have gone when we had the chance, bro," Merle says, looking at Glenn. He walks past him and into the common room.

Rick looks down, then back up. "He wants the prison. He wants us gone. Dead. He wants us dead for what we did to Woodbury."

Rick's quiet, letting it sink in. "What do we do?" I ask.

"We're going to war."

We break off, each person going somewhere else. Rick walks outside. Hershel and I follow him a few minutes later. I push open the door to the catwalk separating two cell blocks, and Hershel follows me out. Rick looks up when we walk out. "The group's taking it as well as it can be expected," I report.

"Merle and Michonne are convinced we should hit first," Hershel says. "Carol and I think we should take our chances on the road."

"Daryl and I want to stay and fight," I say.

"We're in this together," Hershel continues. "So if we stay and fight, so be it."

"He gave me a choice," Rick says for the first time since Hershel and I walked onto the catwalk. "A way out."

"What does he want?" Hershel asks.

"Michonne."

"He'd kill her," I say.

"And then kill us anyway." Rick pauses. "But what if he doesn't? What if this is the answer?"

"This is not the answer, Rick," I say.

"Why didn't you tell them?" Hershel asks.

"They need to be scared," Rick says. I turn to go back inside as Rick and Hershel continue talking.

"They are," Hershel says.

"Good. 'Cause that's the only way they'll accept it."

The sound of the conversations dies behind me, but I can still hear what Rick said ringing in my ears. _Good. 'Cause that's the only way they'll accept it._

Will he give The Governor what he wants; Michonne and the prison? Will he tell the rest of the group about this other option, or will he make the decision privately? So many questions about Rick and what he intends to do run through my mind, but only one thing remains clear. I have a big secret to keep, one that's life and death.


	13. This Sorrowful Life

Hershel, Daryl, Rick and I stand outside by the fence. "It's the only way," Rick says, breaking the silence. "No one else knows."

"You gonna tell 'em?" Daryl asks.

"Not till after. We have to do it today. It has to be quiet."

"You got a plan?" I ask.

"We tell her we need to talk. Away from the others."

"Just ain't us, man," Daryl says.

"No. No it isn't," Hershel says, speaking for the first time since we've come outside. He turns and walks back inside the prison.

"I agree. This isn't what we do," I say.

"Listen, we do this, and we avoid a fight," Rick says. "No one else dies."

"All right," Daryl says after thinking it through.

"We need someone else."

Rick pauses, and Daryl and I realize that he means Merle. "We'll talk to him," I say.

"I'll do it."

"I'll go with you," Daryl volunteers.

"No. Just me." He turns and walks inside the prison. I look out into the field, observing the walkers. A few minutes later Rick walks out. Daryl, Michonne and Glenn are setting up traps for The Governor's forces. Carl and Maggie distract the walkers. I turn and go inside. Merle stands on the second floor, watching the others, while Carol holds Judith. I walk over to Carol and take the baby from her, gently rocking her. "Ain't no way," Merle says.

"What?" Carol asks, but I know what he's talking about. I put Judith in her crib for a nap.

"Nothing."

"What happened here?"

"We got any whiskey?" Merle asks, changing the subject. "Hell, I'd even drink vodka."

"Go to hell, Merle," I say.

He laughs at that, then walks down the stairs. Carol sits down at a table and puts ammo in a clip. "Are you with us?" she asks.

"Sure."

"I'm not talking about occupying the same space. Are you with us?"

"I'm here for my brother."

"Well, he's here for us. Clary too." Carol pauses. "It's not time to do shots. It's time to pick a damn side."

Merle chuckles. "You ain't like you was back in the camp. A little mouse running around, scared of her own shadow."

"It wasn't my shadow, it was my husband's."

"Well, you don't seem scared of nothing anymore."

"I'm not."

"Hmm. You're a late bloomer."

Carol stands up, swings the ammo bag over her shoulder, and looks up at my oldest brother. "Maybe you are, too."

Carol walks into the cell block, and I walk outside. I pause when I hear Daryl's voice. "Say he was sorry yet?" Daryl asks. "'Cause he is. He's gonna make it right. I'm gonna make him. There's got to be a way. Just needs to be a little forgiveness is all."

"He tied me to a chair, beat me, and threw a walker in the room," Glenn says after a moment. "Maybe I could call it even. But he... he took Maggie to a man who terrorized her, humiliated her. He took Clary and interrogated her. Scared her to death, and threw a walker in the room. She told me he threatened to throw a second one in the room if she didn't tell him where the prison was. Maggie had already told him by then. He was just doing that to try to get a little more information even when Maggie had already told him everything. And he knew that she told him everything. I care more about them than I care about me."

Daryl walks away, his crossbow over his shoulder. He stops when he gets to me. "How long were you there?"

"Long enough to know that Glenn cares more about Maggie and I than about him," I say softly, then walk past Daryl. Glenn looks up when I walk over. "Hey, Clary."

I wrap my arms around him, surprising him. Glenn puts one arm around me. "Umm, Clary?"

"Just so you know, I care more about Daryl and you than I care about me," I say, and pull away from him.

"You heard that?"

"Every word. What Daryl said about making Merle say he's sorry? He means it. Daryl makes a promise like that, he keeps it."

"Good to know, but I honestly don't want his apology."

I sit on the top of the picnic table and look up at Glenn. "Then what do you want?"

He answers right away. "For you and Maggie to be safe. You're like a sister to me. I can understand why Daryl always stuck around you back at the camp outside of Atlanta."

"Thanks, Glenn," I say with a small grin. I slide off of the picnic table, and kiss his cheek before walking inside the prison. When I get inside, I decide to go find Daryl. I walk around, and hear voices coming from the generator room. I stop outside the door and listen. "You used to call people like that sheep," Merle says. "What happened to you?"

"What happened with you and Glenn and Maggie," Daryl pauses, "and Clary?"

"I've done worse. You need to grow up. Things are different now. Your—"

"You don't even care about your own sister!" Daryl barks. "Do me a favor, Merle. Stay the hell away from her."

Despite Daryl yelling at him, Merle's voice is calm. "Your people look at me like I'm the devil. Grabbing those lovebirds like that, huh?"

"You took Clary, too."

"Now y'all wanna do the same damn thing I did. Snatch someone up and deliver them to The Governor, just like me. Yeah. People do what they gotta do or they die."

"Can't do things without people anymore, man."

Merle scoffs. "Maybe these people need somebody like me around, huh? Do their dirty work. The bad guy. Yeah, maybe that's how it is now, huh? How does that hit you?"

I turn and walk away before Daryl can respond. I walk into Cell Block C and see Michonne sitting at the top if the steps. She's the only person in the cell block. I walk up them and stop when we're eye level. "Don't go anywhere without someone," I say quietly.

She looks at me. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Before I can explain, Merle walks through the door. "Hey, Michonne. I found a breach that The Governor could use to get in here. You want to come help me close it?"

Michonne looks up at me, and I meet her eyes, silently warning her not to go. "Clary, come with me," she blurts.

I nod and we walk down the stairs to Merle. He looks at me, confused. "I'm going, too," I explain. "I don't have anything else to do."

Merle turns and walks out of the cell block. We follow him through the prison. "So where is it?" Michonne asks.

"Just 'round the corner. We got to clear some walkers, then get the others down here to barricade it. A breach like this could be an open invitation to The Governor," Merle says. Michonne walks by a closed cell, and a walker is at the door, trying to get her. She glares at it, and we continue to walk.

"He's not much for subtlety."

Walkers come around the corner ahead of us, snarling. Merle looks at Michonne. "You want to take your chances?"

Michonne glances at him, then pulls her katana out. She drives it through the forehead of a walker. Merle stabs a walker with a knife attached to his metal sleeve. I pull out my machete and drive it through a walker's forehead. We step back as three more walkers come around the corner. Merle strands behind Michonne and I. He gives a grunt, and Michonne falls against me, unconscious. I look up at him. "What _the hell_, Merle!"

He shrugs and kills two of the walkers. I step forward to kill the third one when Merle hits my head. I fall to the side, but I'm out before my head hits the ground.

* * *

When I wake, the first thing that I notice is that there's a bag over my head. I sit up and pull it off. My wrists as bound together with wire, and the dial from a rotary phone binds my fingers. I look around, and see Michonne sitting next to me, staring at her bound wrists and fingers. I hold up my hands. "Is this a dial from a rotary phone?"

She nods. "I think so." Michonne hold up her hands, and I see that there's wire trailing down from where her wrists are bound. "Look, a leash."

I chuckle. The way she said it made it seem like she always wanted to have a leash. I look at my hands, and see that I have one too. "We have matching leashes."

Michonne grins, then laughs. In a minute, I join her. Merle comes through the door and stares at us. "What the hell are you two laughing about?"

We hold up our hands. "We have matching leashes!" I cry.

Merle rolls his eyes, then grabs the leashes, yanking on them. We stop laughing as he pulls on them harder, tellingly to go. He has my crossbow over his back, and my knife on his belt. Michonne's katana is also on his back, along with his gun. Michonne and I get to our feet and follow him out of the prison. He leads us through the prison without going by Cell Block C. Merle leads us down the road, toward Verlin's, where we met The Governor and where we agreed to drop off Michonne.

"The Governor made Rick an offer. Turn you over, and we all give peace a chance. I agree with you, though. He would have blinked," Merle says.

"But not you," Michonne says.

Merle scoffs. "I'm being straight with you."

"You were straight when you led us into the tombs," I say.

"Okay, maybe I wasn't straight."

"You put a bag over my head," Michonne retorts. "Clary's, too."

"I got it done. He wouldn't have. Keep moving. He was a guy that came back for me in that rooftop. Nah, it's all on me. You know? I figure that's why I was back there in the first place. Do the dirty work."

A walker starts to growl a little ways away. I look over to see a walker wearing a trench coat walking towards us. Merle chuckles. "May I?"

He unsheathes Michonne's katana and walks forward. He decapitate the walker and looks back at us, putting the katana back in its sheath. "Oh. You know what? I figured you would've run."

Michonne gives him a fake smile. "Wanted my sword back before I get away."

"And I wanted my crossbow and knife," I say.

Merle laughs at that. "It may go down that way. But if I were you, I wouldn't get my hopes up." Merle walks up to us and picks up our leashes. "Move."

We walk in silence for a while. "I wanna be with my siblings. They wanna be in the prison," Merle says.

"Yes we do," I say.

"This little trip," Merle continues, "maybe it'll keep that place standing. If I pull it off, maybe all is forgiven."

"That's a whole lotta maybes."

We stop in front of a house. Merle walks towards a car parked in the driveway. "You gotta play the hand you're dealt. I only got one."

Michonne and I follow him. He opens the driver's door, looks inside, the closes it. He walks back to Michonne and I, stopping in front of us. "You talk about the weight of what you have to do, how you can handle it." Michonne says. "A bad man, someone truly evil, they're light as a feather. They don't feel a thing."

"I've killed sixteen men since all this went down." Merle glances at the walkers coming out of the woods. "Let's go."

We walk to an abandoned motel. "I think we're good," Merle says.

"Yeah, we're great," I say sarcastically. "Just peachy."

Merle leads Michonne and I to one of the support poles. He ties the leashes around it and goes to a car. We watch as he picks the lock and lays down on the floorboard, hot-wiring the car. After engine sputtering for a minute, the car finally starts. Then, the alarm starts to go off. The sound will attract all the walkers for a mile. Michonne and I turn as walkers come out of the woods, snarling. One heads straight for the vehicle. "Merle!" I yell.

"Come on, Merle!" Michonne yells. We try to untie our hands, but we can't. A walker comes out of a room about twenty feet away. I look to my left just in time; a walker is almost on me. I kick it to the ground, and stomp its head in. I shudder; I hate feeling the squishy flesh from a walker on the bottoms of my boots. Michonne and I stand back as the other walker comes toward us. We wait until the walker is almost to us, then run in a circle, using the wire leash and pole to decapitate the walker. By doing this, we don't have any extra leash left. It's all wrapped around the pole.

The walker going towards the car finally gets to it. He leans in towards Merle, who finally gets the car alarm to stop. He pushes the walker away, then grabs Michonne's katana. He kills the walker as a walker comes out of the room behind Michonne. Before I can warn her, she sees him, but we can't run. The walker grabs her, and a gunshot rings out. The walker drops to the ground as Merle runs to us. He uses the katana to cut the leashes. "Come on!"

Michonne and I follow him to the car. He throws open the passenger door and the door to the backseat. We climb in as he closes them, then climbs in the driver's seat. The tires squeal as he backs up, then speeds off, away from the walkers. We drive in silence for a while. I decide to break it. "You know, Merle. This is the second time you've kidnapped me."

He looks in the rearview mirror at me. "Yeah, I know."

"Why'd you kidnap me this time?"

"Couldn't have you telling the others where we were going."

We go back to driving in silence. "So is this you thing then? You take out the trash?" Michonne asks.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, darlin'," Merle says.

"The Governor, Rick. Anyone needs their piss bucket emptied and you come a-running."

Merle chuckles.

"Things are different for Daryl and I," I say.

"Yeah, they are," Merle agrees. "Rick says jump and both of you want to know how high."

"Mm-mmm," Michonne says. "Rick needs both of them. Respects 'em. He didn't ask Daryl to do this little job, now did he?"

"No, 'cause he wants it done."

"You keep telling yourself that. The truth is this could have been your shot. With your skills, a whole new beginning. But you choose to stay on the outside. No one's gonna mourn you, not even Daryl or I. We have a new family. A better family," I say.

Merle sighs. "You keep trying to get under my skin, both of you, I'm gonna cut that tongue out."

Merle looks at Michonne. "Your buddy's turning you over 'cause he's trying to save himself. You're as much on the outside as I am, girl."

"Maybe," she says. "But once The Governor's down with me, at least I won't have to live with myself."

With that, we go back to driving in silence. After a while, Michonne speaks. "You said you killed sixteen men since this thing started? You ever kill anyone before?"

"No," Merle answers.

"How about before Woodbury? Before you met him?"

Merle doesn't reply.

"Huh. So he saves your life, cleans you up, fed you a line of bullshit. Why would you kill somebody else for him? You know, we can go back."

Merle chuckles. "Ain't happening."

"All of us," Michonne offers. "We can just go back."

Merle shakes his head. "I can't go back. Don't you understand that? I can't."

"Why?"

The brakes squeal as he stops the car. He turns, and looks at her. Without saying anything, Merle cuts her restraints. He looks at me, and I hold my hands up. He cuts my restraints as well. "You go back with them. Get ready for what's next. I got something I gotta do on my own," he says.

Michonne and I climb out, and he hands us our weapons; katana, crossbow, and knife. We close the doors and he drives off. I turn and start to walk back to the prison. "Let's go, Michonne."

We walk in silence, and we come to where Merle decapitated a walker with Michonne's katana. I drive my knife into the walker head, and hear a familiar voice. "Hey!" Daryl calls.

I look up. "Daryl?"

He looks away from Michonne to me, and runs forward. I meet him, wrapping my arms around his neck. "Where's my brother?" Daryl asks, setting me down. "You kill him?"

Michonne shakes her head. "He let us go."

"Don't let anyone come after us."

He walks past her, and I follow him. We take off running, our crossbows in front of us. When we make it to Verlin's, there's nobody around. It's just walkers feeding. I look around, and see the car that Merle was driving parked a little ways away. I point to it, and Daryl nods. The walkers ignore us as we continue walking. We walk around dead bodies, and Daryl fires at one walker. He walks forward, pulling the arrow out of the walker's head. I follow him, staying close. Something doesn't feel right. Then, one walker looks up, and I cover my mouth to stifle a scream.

The walker is Merle.

We stare at our brother, trying not to cry, but both of us failing. Merle stands up, and I see a single gunshot wound in his chest. He steps over the dead bodies of a boy about twenty, walking towards us. Daryl and I step backwards, and I stay behind my brother. He pushes Merle away. "No!" he cries.

Merle, growling, comes to us again. Daryl pushes him away, then wraps his arms around me. By now, I'm sobbing, even though I was never close to Merle. Our brother walks forward again, and Daryl lets go of me to push him away. As Merle walks to us a fourth time, Daryl pulls out his knife. He pushes Merle to the ground, sitting on his chest. He drives his knife into Merle's forehead, and pulls it out. He doesn't stand up, he just keeps driving the knife into our brother's head. The sixth time Daryl pulls the knife back, I wrap my arms around him, trying pull him off of Merle's body. He doesn't fight, and we fall backwards, crying. Daryl drops the knife, and wraps his arms around me. He pulls me into his lap, and I lean into him so I don't have to look. I sob into his chest, and I think about the last thing Merle said._ I got something I gotta do on my own._

He must have come and killed the Woodbury survivors, then someone killed him. "'No one's gonna mourn you, not even Daryl or I. We have a new family. A better family,'" I say into Daryl's chest once I stop crying enough to speak.

"What?" he whispers.

"The last thing I said to him. It was so... I don't know. Hateful, I guess. 'No one's gonna mourn you, not even Daryl or I. We have a new family. A better family.'"

Daryl doesn't give any reaction, which just makes it worse. "Say something," I whisper.

"Don't leave me, too," he says.


	14. Welcome to the Tombs

Daryl and I sit on the ground next to his motorcycle, in the prison courtyard. While we were gone, the others decided that we would stay and fight. A small group consisting of Hershel, Beth, Judith, Carl and I are going to hide in the woods when the battle takes place. Daryl was the one that suggested I should go with them, and I didn't object, seeing as how I can't do anything other than remember the last thing I said to Merle.

Daryl packs things in the motorcycle saddlebags, and I have my small duffel bag that has all of my belongings in sitting next to me. I'm quiet, staring at nothing. Someone taps my shoulder, and I look over to see Daryl studying me, looking concerned. "I already know the answer, but are you okay, Clary?"

"No," I say softly, and brush a strand of hair from my face. "No, I'm not okay."

I watch as Carl takes a duffel bag to the Hyundai, ignoring Rick's offer for help. Glenn walks over to Rick, who's now inspecting one of the cars. "I've never seen him this mad," Glenn says. "Even with Lori. He just shut down."

"He's still a kid," Rick says, looking over his shoulder at his son. "It's easy to forget."

"He'll be fifteen in two months."

"Yeah, I know." Rick shuts the hood of the car, and the two part.

Carol comes over and puts a hand on Daryl's shoulder. "You know, Merle never did nothing like that in his whole life," my brother says.

"He gave us a chance," she says, offering Daryl her hand. He takes it and stands up. She walks off, and Daryl offers me his hand. I take it and stand up. I walk over to Carl, who wraps his arms around me, careful to avoid the crossbow on my back. "I'm sorry," he says.

I pull back and look at him. "Don't be. There's nothin to be sorry for. Merle may have given his life so we could have a chance at beating The Governor, but he was a jerk. He kidnapped me twice, scared me to death, and beat Glenn. He's tried to kill Michonne on more than one occasion. He was erratic and a danger to the group. There's nothing to be sorry for, Carl. So don't be."

I turn and go get my duffel bag, keeping my head down, before Carl can reply, but I still see the confused and concerned faces of everyone in my group. When Daryl and I got back to the prison, I was a wreck. I could barely talk about what had happened. Now, I'm cold and hard, and talking about Merle's death like it didn't affect me. But it did affect me; Merle tried to be a hero in the end. The last time I saw him, I spoke to him like I hated him. I look around at the rest of the group. "Let's go, The Governor could be here any minute. We don't have time to waste."

They nod and finish packing everything. We drive out into the woods as the others get into position. From where we park the Hyundai, we can see the prison and the road. Carl and I cover the car with an army tarp, making it blend in with the surrounding forest. We lay three rifles on the hood, for when The Governor gets to the prison. Beth sits in the Hyundai with Judith, the door open, while Hershel, Carl and I stand outside. I keep my crossbow on my shoulder, and my hand on the grip of my handgun in my thigh holster. Carl holds his silenced handgun, his eyes fixed on the road. We stand in silence for at least an hour. I take the sheriff's hat off of his head and put it on mine, lightly punching his arm. "Smile a little. We'll beat The Governor."

He looks at me over his shoulder, glancing from my face to his hat. "I think you have something that's mine."

I gesture to the hat. "What, this? I thought it was mine," I say jokingly.

I finally get a small grin out of Carl. He reaches back and takes his hat, putting it back on his head. "It's mine."

Carl turns back to the road, and I watch as four armed vehicles pull into the prison field. Martinez fires a grenade into Tower One, and a man fires at Tower Three. The lead vehicle, with The Governor himself behind the wheel, is full of men all holding rifles. Carl hands me a rifle and grabs one for himself as we settle on the ground, aiming at The Governor's forces. "C'mon, look alive, people," I say under my breath.

Carl glances at me as Martinez fires another grenade at Tower Two. While planning on where everyone would be positioned, Rick decided that most people would guess that someone was hiding in the guard towers, so nobody was positioned there. It's a good thing, too, or else they would have been blown to kingdom come.

The men in the lead truck fire at all the walkers in the field. In a minute, all the walkers have been blown to pieces. The men climb out of the vehicle, seeing as the traps Daryl, Glenn and Michonne laid are working. The tires in the lead vehicle popped. Three vehicles and the men on foot run to the second gate. We left it open so they wouldn't tear it down. The men walk around, looking for anyone in my group. "I should be there," Carl says.

I look at him. "We both should."

Carl and I turn our attention back to the prison and the Woodbury men. They make it into Cell Block C, where a few of the group are hiding. Michonne runs from where she's hiding and leaps into the lead vehicle. She jams the machine gun mounted on top of the truck, and climbs out just as quick as she climbed in. Michonne runs back to where's she's hiding as we wait. Woodbury soldiers run out of the cell block, and Maggie starts firing at them from the catwalk between two of the cell blocks. Some of the men take cover behind picnic tables, and Glenn starts firing at them. The men cover each other as they run to the trucks. One man jumps into the lead truck and tries to fire the machine gun. "Shit! It's jammed!"

The Governor, Martinez, and another man climb into another truck and take off. The Governor puts his machine gun out the window and fires wildly, not aiming at anything. They pull out of the prison field last, following the other vehicles. Carl and I get to our feet and put the rifles back in the Hyundai. Carl starts to say something, but I hold my hand up, telling him to be quiet. There's a rustling in the woods, as if someone's running. I point to where it's coming from, and draw my handgun. A kid about nineteen comes out, carrying a rifle. I saw him with The Governor in the field. Carl, Hershel, and I aim our handguns at him, and the kid stops in his tracks. "Whoa, whoa whoa. Don't shoot."

"Drop the weapon, son," Hershel commands. The kid holds out his rifle, the end of the barrel pointed towards me. His finger hovers above the trigger. Carl and I glance at each other, and back to the rifle. The kid takes small steps toward us. Carl follows his movements, his handgun still aimed at the kid. "Sure. Here, take it," says the kid.

His finger moves down toward the trigger, but it's Carl who fires first. The kid drops to the ground without even pulling the trigger, a bullet hole in his forehead. Hershel and I stare at Carl in disbelief, he's in shock that he just killed somebody. I look back up at the prison, and see the others regrouping. Daryl, holding his crossbow, scans the woods, looking for us. Hershel, Beth, Carl, Judith and I drive back up to the prison, and go inside. Beth takes Judith over to Rick, who makes sure that his baby is alright, before turning to Hershel, Carl and I. He hugs Carl. "Hey."

"Dad, I'm coming to Woodbury," Carl says.

"Carl."

"Dad, I did my job out there. Just like all of you. Took out one of The Governor's soldiers."

"One of his soldiers?" Hershel questions. "A kid running away? He stumbled across us."

"No, he drew on us," Carl argues.

Rick looks down at his son. "I'm sorry you had to do that."

"It's what I was there for. I'm going with you," Carl says, and walks off.

"We're going with you," I correct, watching Carl walk away. I turn back to Rick. "We're going to Woodbury. I'm coming."

Rick nods once, and Hershel watches Carl go in the cell block. He looks at Rick. "That kid was scared. He was handing his gun over."

Rick looks at Hershel. "He said he drew."

Hershel shakes his head. Rick glances away, then back to the other man. "Carl said it was in defense."

Hershel continues to shake his head. "I was there. He didn't have to shoot. He had every reason not to—"

"Maybe it looked like that to you, Hershel—"

"Rick! I'm telling you, he gunned that kid down." With that, Hershel walks off, and Rick looks at me.

"The kid's gun was pointed at me, even though he didn't have his finger on the trigger. He moved his finger, and your son thought he was trying to shoot me. He shot the kid. He doesn't want me getting hurt. He shot the kid... Carl shot the kid to protect me. Keep that in mind, Rick," I say, and walk away.

Daryl looks up when I come over. "You okay?" Daryl asks.

"Yeah, why?" I ask.

"I heard the conversation. You said Carl killed a kid to protect you."

"I'm guessing you heard I'm coming to Woodbury?" I ask, changing the subject.

"Yeah. You riding with me?" Daryl asks, and I nod. I follow my brother outside, and walk over to Carl as Daryl pulls his motorcycle forward. I lean against one on the picnic tables with Carl, and Rick walks over. He kneels in front of his son. "Hershel told me about the boy you shot. Clary did, too," Rick says.

"He had a gun," Carl replies, "aimed at Clary. I didn't know if he was going to shoot or not."

Rick nods. "Hmm. Was he handing it over, though?"

Carl pauses for a second. "He had just attacked us."

"Yeah. Yes, he had." Rick looks up at Carl. "Was he handing it over?"

Carl glances down, and looks everywhere but at Rick. "I couldn't take the chance. I didn't kill the walker that killed Dale. Look what happened."

"Son, that is not the same thing."

"You didn't kill Andrew and he came back and killed Mom. You were in a room with The Governor and you let him go. And then he killed Merle."

My breath catches in my throat at that. Even though I act like my oldest brother's death didn't have an affect on me, it did. I feel guilty because I was one of the ones that convinced him to let us go, and convinced him to try to kill The Governor. I feel like it's my fault that he's dead now, even though I know that it's not. I know it's not my fault that Merle is dead, but I feel like it is. It's still too soon to talk about Merle, or his death.

"I did what I had to do," Carl says harshly. "Now go. So he doesn't kill any more of us."

He gets up and walks off, leaving Rick and I alone. Carl drops something made of metal, and Rick puts his hand on my arm. "Hey, I'm sorry he brought your brother into this. Merle did what he could to stop The Governor."

I nod, and walk over to the rest of the group. Rick picks up what Carl dropped and walks over to us. "Rick, we're staying," Glenn says. "We don't know where The Governor is. If he comes back we'll hold him off."

"Just the four of us?" Daryl asks, now that Maggie, Glenn and Carl aren't going to Woodbury. "All right."

My brother climbs on the motorcycle that used to be Merle's, and I climb on behind him. Rick looks at Glenn and Maggie. "I appreciate you staying," our leader says.

"Sure," Maggie replies, and Rick walks past them. He and Michonne climb in the Hyundai, and Daryl and I lead the way out of the prison. When we see two of The Governor's vehicles parked on the road with walkers feeding on bodies, Daryl stops his motorcycle, and Rick stops the Hyundai. We climb off, Daryl and I swinging our crossbows into place. Daryl shoots one walker, and I shoot another. Michonne partially decapitates two, and Rick stabs another walker. Daryl and I stand with our backs to an army truck, watching for more walkers. Suddenly, there's a thumping on the window. Startled, Daryl and I spin, aiming our crossbows. There's a woman in her mid-thirties, with curly, chestnut brown hair and brown eyes looking out the window. "Whoa!" I gasp.

Rick aims his revolver at her, and Daryl, his knife up, opens the door. She jumps out, her hands up, eyes wide. "Who the hell are you?" Daryl asks.

"I'm–I'm Karen," she says.

"Where's The Governor?" I question.

"I don't know. He killed everybody and took off."

"Do you have any weapons on you?" Daryl asks.

"Ju–just a handgun. Take it." Karen holds the gun out to me, the grip pointing at me instead of the barrel. I quickly take it, then pass it over my shoulder to Michonne. "Let's go," I say.

Daryl and I climb back on the motorcycle, while Karen, Michonne and Rick get in the Hyundai. We drive back to where we parked when we went to rescue Glenn and Maggie, and stop the vehicles. We walk the rest of the way to Woodbury, and it's dark by the time we reach the gates. Someone fires at Rick, and it misses him. Daryl, Michonne, Rick and I reply by firing at the shooter. The shooter fires back, and I notice there's too many shots to be coming from just one person; there must be two people on the wall. We stop firing long enough to reload, and Karen stands, her hands up. "Tyreese! It's me! Don't—"

Rick pulls her back down. "Get down!"

"Karen!" the man, Tyreese, calls. She doesn't reply. "Karen, are you okay?"

Karen slips out of Rick's grasp, and stands, her hands up. "I'm fine!"

"Where's The Governor?"

"He fired on everyone. He killed them all."

Tyreese pauses. "Why are you with them?"

"They saved me."

"We're coming out!" Rick yells after a silence. He stands, his hands up, and Michonne follows his example. Daryl and I go around the back of the truck we were taking cover behind, our guns aimed at Tyreese and whoever else is on the wall. We look at Rick, at each other, and roll our eyes, sighing. We put our hands up, and a moment later the gates open. A tall man with dark skin, a short, black beard, and dark eyes, and a girl a few inches shorter than the man with dark skin, frizzy brown hair, and dark eyes stand there. They both hold rifles. "What are you doing here?" Tyreese asks, looking at Rick.

"We were coming to finish this," Rick says,"until we saw what The Governor did."

"He–he killed them?"

Rick glances down, then back up. "Yeah. Karen told us Andrea hopped the wall, going for the prison. She never made it. She might be here."

"She's not," the girl says. "I'm Sasha, by the way."

"Well, then where is she?" Michonne asks.

We're all quiet, thinking of where Andrea could be or the chances of a walker getting her. "I think," I say, breaking the silence, "I think I might know."

I lead them through Woodbury, and into a warehouse. "This is where he had Glenn and Maggie... and Clary," Rick says, looking around.

"The Governor kept people here?" Tyreese asks.

"He did more than hold them," Daryl says.

"Not so sweet and innocent and full of hospitality now, is he?" I mutter. Rick leads the way around a corner, his revolver up. There's a locked metal door at the end of the hall, with a slight thumping from inside. We stop a few feet from it, and Rick looks at a pool of blood. Michonne draws her katana, and looks at Rick. "Will you open it?"

Rick puts his hand on the doorknob, and counts to three before opening it. There's a walker laying dead by a chair. "Is that Milton?" I ask.

"Andrea," Michonne cries, running inside. She drops her katana by Milton, and Rick, Daryl and I follow her inside. Rick and Michonne kneel by Andrea, while my brother and I stand back. Tyreese and Sasha stay outside the door.

"I tried to stop them," Andrea says.

Michonne feels the other girl's forehead. "Your burning up."

Andrea pulls aside her denim jacket to reveal a walker bite on her neck. "Judith, Carl, the rest of them," Andrea starts, but Rick cuts her off.

"Us. The rest of _us_," Rick corrects.

Andrea continues as if he didn't say anything. "Are they alive?"

"Yeah, they're alive."

She smiles at that, despite being bitten. She looks at Michonne. "It's good you found them." Michonne nods, fighting tears. "No one can make it alone now."

"I never could," Daryl says, wrapping his arm around my shoulders.

I lean into him. "No one can."

"I just didn't want anyone to die," Andrea says. "I can do it myself."

"No," Michonne objects.

"I have to. While I still can." She looks at Rick. "Please? I know how the safety works."

Rick slides the revolver into Andrea's hands. "Well, I'm not going anywhere," Michonne decides.

Andrea looks at all of us in turn. "I tried."

"Yeah," I say. "You did."

"You did," Rick repeats, and stands. He walks out of the room, and Daryl follows him. I kneel in front of Andrea, and squeeze her hand. "I hate goodbyes," I say.

"Me too," Andrea says. "The worse is when you don't get to say goodbye."

My breath catches in my throat at that. Michonne looks at me, and suddenly understands I'm thinking of Merle. I shake it off and look at Andrea. "Adiós y vaya con Dios," I say, and kiss her forehead. "Goodbye and go with God."

I stand up and walk out of the room, closing the door behind me. I lean into Daryl as we wait, trying not to cry. I've lost too many people already, and I don't want to loose any more. There's a single gunshot, and the casing clinks. I gasp, even though I knew it was coming, and wrap my arms around Daryl. Michonne comes out a few minutes later, putting her katana back in its sheath. Before it slides in, I see that it's bloodied. I guess she took her revenge on Milton before leaving. We go outside, and the others meet at one of the houses. I stand on the wall, my assault rifle over my shoulder and my crossbow in front on me, with a kid about a year or two older than me. "I'm Patrick," he says.

I glance over at him. He has dark eyes framed by glasses and dark hair cut short. "Clary," I say, and go back to watching for walkers.

"You're with the prison group?"

"Yep. How come you didn't come to fight?"

"I've only been here a few hours. Tyreese and Sasha helped me get in."

"And you're already on the wall?"

"You're with the prison and you're on the wall."

I glance at him. His dark eyes study me. "Touché, Patrick. Touché."

A snarling comes before he can reply. I look back to the road and see four walkers. "I got 'em. Hey, Patrick, wanna see a Dixon at work?"

"Sure, whatever that means."

I fire at the farthest walker, and it goes down. I jump off the wall, and pulling out my knife. I land in a crouch, and stab a walker without standing up. I push it off of me, and start forward. I kill the other two walkers and retrieve my arrow. I toss the arrow up to Patrick and climb up the wall. Wiping the walker blood off my knife, I look at him. He stares at me with wide eyes. "You have to teach me to do that."

I chuckle, and take the arrow from him, reloading my crossbow. "It's a family secret."

"That's an awesome family."

"Learned from the best. My older brother Daryl. He's the mid—oldest." I catch myself talking as if Merle is still alive, and fix it.

"You almost said middle. Why?"

I stare at the walkers on the ground. "I don't really want to talk about it."

"Why not?"

I glare at him. "You don't understand the meaning of 'I don't want to talk about it,' do you?"

"You can tell me," Patrick tries.

"Because The Governor just killed my oldest brother yesterday!" I snap. I close my eyes, and sigh. "My oldest brother, Merle, is dead now, no thanks to The Governor." I open my eyes and look at him. "Merle tried to kill The Governor so he wouldn't kill my people. I was there when..." My voice cracks. "I was there when Daryl killed Merle. I know once they Turn, they're not human anymore, but he was my brother. You happy now?"

Before Patrick can recover from his shock, there's a new voice. "You bugging my sister?" Daryl calls.

I glance over my shoulder at Daryl, then turn my attention back to the road. Daryl stands at the base of the wall looking up at Patrick. "So, are you annoying my sister?"

"He's fine, Daryl," I call, trying to keep my voice steady. I turn after wiping my watering eyes. "Patrick's not bugging me."

He nods. "We're leaving soon. You wanna go get the bike?"

I grin. "Can I?"

"Take Michonne so she can drive the Hyundai." Daryl tosses me the keys and turns to go tell Michonne. I look back at Patrick. "What?"

"How old are you?" Patrick asks.

I roll my eyes. "Fifteen. It's never too early to start learning, 'specially nowadays."

Patrick sighs, and I pat his shoulder. "You know, it's cute how you worry."

Michonne walks up onto the wall, and we climb over it, walking back to the vehicles in silence. I climb on the motorcycle and she climbs in the Hyundai. We drive back to Woodbury, and Patrick opens the doors for us. I park in front of where the Woodbury survivors are boarding a bus to come back to the prison, and Daryl walks over. I sit on the motorcycle, and he studies it. "Checking for scratches?" I ask.

He sighs at my sarcasm. "Nope." Daryl leans down. "By the way, you might want to tell Patty about Carl."

"Patrick," I correct, climb off the motorcycle. "I was just getting ready to do that."

I find Patrick still on the wall, and walk up. "There's a guy at the prison, my age. I think you two would get along. If we get along, then you and Carl should get along fine."

Patrick looks at me over his shoulder. "You hard to get along with?"

"I scare prisoners. What do you think?"

"Yikes."

"Yep. Time to go, by the way." I get down from the wall and walk back over with Daryl while the last of Woodbury residents climb in the bus. I climb on the motorcycle behind him, and we lead the way to the prison. It's midday by the time we get back to the prison. Glenn and Maggie open the gate, and Rick and Michonne follow us in. Karen drives the bus into the courtyard. Rick and I walk over to Carl, who holds one of his guns. "What is this?" Carl asks.

"They're gonna join us," Rick says.

Carl glances at the Woodbury survivors climbing off the bus. Hershel and Beth greet them as they walk into the prison. Tyreese leads them, and Hershel claps him on the back. Rick walks off, leaving Carl and I standing next to each other. He shakes his head. "Do you agree with this, Clary?"

I look at Carl. "To be honest, I'm not to thrilled about it. These people just attacked us, they wanted our prison, our home. I don't trust them much. They are The Governor's knows if they would side with him if he came back. I get that they might not be like him, but that doesn't mean that I should trust them. So, no. I don't agree with it."

Carol walks forward, probably looking for Andrea. Carl looks for her as well. "Where's Andrea?"

"She's dead. Walker bite, the poor thing. She killed herself before she turned. Michonne sat with her the entire time."

"Terrible way to go."

"Yeah."

Glenn and Maggie watch the Woodbury survivors, looking for Andrea, too. I take his hat again. I wave to Patrick as he climbs off the bus, and he waves back. "Who's that?" Carl asks.

"Patrick. New guy at Woodbury, he didn't come until after The Governor left for the prison," I reply, watching Patrick walk inside the prison. Carl takes his hat back and slides his hand into mine, surprising me. I look up at him. He grins. "So, how about that picnic?"


End file.
